Full Circle
by Stormy1989
Summary: Wandering the streets of London, Severus Snape makes a decision which changes the fate of the Wizarding World forever. A tale of trust, betrayal and learning to trust again. HBP compliant. Please R&R!
1. No Longer Welcome

No Longer Welcome

The Media never lies: agreed?

I don't think so...

Sometimes the lies published in the tabloids can seem so plausible; _believable _even; and these lies can then become convincingly like the truth if you are searching for someone to blame. Natural human responses will tell us this much as we have all blamed someone unfairly at some point in our lives. But what happens to the people on the receiving end of the false accusations? And what are the consequences when those affected are driven away by those who they once counted as friends?

Sometimes, only when the physical pain is starting to fade do the deeper scars begin to reveal themselves. And some scars take a long time to heal.

* * *

Disclaimer : No, I don't own any of the characters but all the places I use are real and actually exist.

* * *

_8th December, 2001:_

"Miss Granger, I was under the impression that I am more senior to you in this school therefore my orders should be obeyed. For the third and final time: _go away_."

Hermione was standing in a dungeon at Hogwarts looking at the greasy haired, hooked nosed, newly reinstated Potions master, biting her lip as if she was debating on whether to stand her ground or obey Severus Snape's demands. This time, Hermione chose to stand her ground.

"I…"

"…have no interest whatsoever in what it is you have come to see me for. Now I am ordering you to leave."

"Professor McGonagall has asked…"

"If she wants to see me, tell her to come herself," Snape said irritably, not looking up from the large book he was reading. His temper, already considerably frayed, had been on breaking point for weeks. Five weeks and two days, to be precise.

"I've already told you; she asked me to…"

"The answer is no, whatever it is you want me to do."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, stop being so childish!" Hermione snapped. "I'm not a student anymore! And the world doesn't revolve around you, you know, so stop moping around the castle like the world is about to end. Things have settled down for a while at least. Be happy for once!"

Snape stood up, his dark eyes burning with an angry fire. "I forgot," he said dangerously softly, letting Hermione know that she had overstepped her line. "As you know, all my life I have been the Centre of the Universe; the Golden Boy of Gryffindor; the _Boy-Who-Lived_."

"Don't bring Harry into this! You wouldn't be here now if Harry hadn't fought those Death Eaters back in November; you owe him your life, as everyone does! Your petty little sarcasm is starting to make me sick!" Hermione shot back, her temper flaring.

"Temper, temper," Snape said even more softly with a characteristic sneer. "And as for owing Potter my life, I believe I have saved _his_ sorry little life on more than one occasion. I owe him nothing. I also believe that i _I_ played a significant role in the last fight against the Dark Lord's dominions, despite what the _Prophet_ has brainwashed the public to believe."

"I…" Hermione started before stopping quickly. She had no retort to make and

Snape smirked as he surveyed her malevolently.

"You see," Snape said, his voice barely audible of the crackling of a fire lit under a steaming cauldron behind him. "Typical Gryffindor. Shout first, think later. True Slytherins do not get caught out."

"In that case," Hermione spat back recklessly, "explain why you have missed all three of your lessons today, as well as the staff meeting and all the meals, plus lunch and dinner yesterday, too."

"Don't be stupid, Gr…" Snape's dark eyes flickered over to the mahogany clock above his fireplace and the words died in his throat. It was quarter past ten in the evening. To his horror, Hermione was right: he _had_ missed them. Snape couldn't think of anything to say to her so he just glared. To his annoyance, Hermione smiled gently.

"I think I've made my point," she said calmly but with a slight note of bossiness in her voice to match Snape's sarcasm. "I covered your lessons today so there is no harm done there. I suggest you eat something before you go and see Professor McGonagall though, you look terrible," she finished bluntly.

"Get out," Snape hissed. "You might be the new Charms Professor but you are still a bossy, interfering Gryffindor who puts her bushy head in where it is neither wanted nor needed."

Hermione shrugged, well used to Snape's biting comments ever since she had taken up her position as Head of Gryffindor at Hogwarts. Turning away, Hermione said, "suit yourself. I suggest you at least have something to drink before you do anything else though, even if you won't eat. As I said, you look awful."

Snape glared at her retreating back until she closed the door behind her with a small click. The Half-Blood Prince collapsed into his chair, his head in his hands.

_Have I really missed all my classes…?_

On impulse, Snape stood up and walked over to a small mirror on the inside of his wardrobe. As he glanced at his reflection, he saw immediately what Hermione had meant – he _did _look horrendous. His face was thin and waxy, the curtains of dark hair framing his face making him look even paler than he actually was, while his eyes were nothing but dark pools which betrayed that he had seen too much in his still relatively short life of forty one years.

Snape closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

_Twenty one years since I became a Death Eater…_

He shuddered involuntary. Although a hoard of Death Eaters had been defeated the month before, the Potions master-come-spy was having a rough time trying to keep up his continual Occlumency shield, even in sleep, as he deceived the Darkest Lord ever to exist alongside torturing and murdering just to keep his cover in Voldemort's inner ranks. It had all come to a head though as the Potions master stood beside that wretched _Boy-Who-Lived_ in the battle against the Death Eaters.

Voldemort had been weakened by the loss of so many of his inner ranks, there was no doubt about it, but that wouldn't stop him for long.

The attack, when it had come, had been swift and unexpected. The real reason for the fight was just to take Harry to Voldemort; everyone else was there as mere spectators; or as a distraction.

Everyone except him, that is.

Snape knew that only one of the two enemies, or neither of them, would survive their next meeting and if the Battle came now… Harry would be hopelessly outclassed, both in knowledge of spells and mental strength, if he faced Voldemort now. True, the boy's knowledge of defensive spells was impressively extensive with counter curses for almost every spell ever created, but the only thing Harry had never seemed to acknowledge, however, is that you can't win a duel by just defending yourself and not really fighting back.

That's where he'd stepped in.

Snape had stood shoulder to shoulder with Harry using his own spells to attack the Death Eaters while trusting that Potter would help to deflect the brunt of the spells sent at the two of them. The fight had been brutal but the number of casualties had been unexpectedly small. After a time, the Death Eaters had realised that there was no way they could take Harry and so they had retreated. Within hours, Harry was once again the Wizarding world's 'Saviour' and the 'Chosen One', not to mention 'The-Boy-Who-Lived-And-So-Can-Still-Save-Us-All'.

_Bloody Gryffindor…_

After the battle, no one seemed to acknowledge that it had been the greasy haired, sarcastic, scrawny Potions master, universally accepted as the least popular teacher Hogwarts had ever seen, who had been the one to force the Death Eaters' retreat. Only Rita Skeeter had noticed; and Snape was half contemplating poisoning her with the most painful elixir he knew of.

…_And alongside the Chosen One,_ she had written the day after the battle in the _Daily Prophet,_ _was the disgraced murderer of Hogwarts' previous headmaster, Albus Dumbledore._ _Questions have been raised as to whether the possibly deranged and undoubtedly unstable ex-Death Eater was just attempting to gain some of Harry Potter's limelight by standing alongside him in the Death Eaters' battle. Harry Potter has refused to comment, as has the man in question, although an unnamed Ministry official has been known to refer to Severus Snape as the 'traitorous scum'._

_So far, no one is certain as to why the Potions master decided to change sides although an Auror, who also wishes to remain anonymous, did suggest that it was 'possible that he Snape was wanting revenge on You-Know-Who's followers for his own personal reasons and had not, in fact, changed sides at all. It is certainly possible that the supposedly 'ex' Death Eater was hopeful that if he was seen alongside our Saviour, his atrocious crime of the past would be forgotten'._

_Whatever Severus Snape's reasons may be, there is no denying of his past and Ministry officials have issued a statement which said that 'it is strongly advisable that he Snape is avoided as no one is certain of his current mental state. We will be making enquiries into anyone who is believed to be involved with any Dark activities or practices, either now or in the past, and we ask the public to be aware that some Death Eaters are highly insecure and are likely to lash out if approached'. _

_Following this statement, large numbers of the general public have made clear requests to the Ministry of Magic that the recently reinstated Potions master of Hogwarts should be apprehended and taken to St. Mungo's Infirmary until his psychological stability has been suitably assessed by specialist professionals. More commonly, however, members of the Wizarding community have called for Severus Snape's immediate imprisonment in the now Ministry controlled Azkaban Prison where, in his currently unpredictable and violent state, Snape can be suitably monitored. Once there, it is largely accepted that the Potions master will be able to be appropriately controlled by highly trained Hit-wizards and Aurors who will be authorised to use strong measures to restrain him if it becomes necessary to do so._

"_He should have been taken into custody years ago," one member of the community commented in obvious disgust. "He's more of a lunatic than that Sirius Black was believed to be. He's a murderer; a Dementor's kiss is too good for him."_

_Meanwhile, the Boy-Who-Lived…_

Snape had been livid when the article had been released and now, with Rita Skeeter's dangerous and toxic lies fresh in his mind, Snape stormed upstairs to the circular office which once belonged to Dumbledore. Fuming, he snarled the password at the gargoyle and roughly pushed open the door at the top of the spiral staircase without bothering to knock.

"Yes?" he spat icily as Professor McGonagall and, to Snape's intense annoyance, Hermione Granger looked up in surprise.

"Ah," Professor McGonagall said carefully. "Severus, I've been wanting to have a word with you recently…"

"Get on with it," Snape sneered.

"Maybe I should go," Hermione said awkwardly to Professor McGonagall.

"Granger, I don't care, quite frankly, whether you are here or not. What do you want, Minerva? I haven't got all day."

"Severus," Professor McGonagall said cautiously. "Maybe it would be an idea if you sat down…?"

"I'm capable of standing."

"Er, in that case, umm; I'm sorry, Severus. It will only be for a short while. Until all this blows over. You've been missing your classes recently and I don't think it's fair on the students to have…" the Headmistress said hesitantly, nothing like her usual firm, controlled self.

"Get on with it."

"Please, Severus. Try to see this from my perspective. I am, primarily, trying to run a school with a safe and relaxed environment and I am concerned that this is not the case at the moment. You see, there has been a lot of pressure from the Ministry of Magic and the general public that I…"

"Professor Dumbledore would have stood up to them," Snape interrupted coldly. "Since when as Ministry interference been a problem that we cannot contend with?"

"Albus is no longer with us, Severus," the Headmistress answered timidly. "I don't see that this is the time to…"

"Why do you want to see me?" Snape hissed. "What is that you want?"

"I'm sorry, Severus," Professor McGonagall said quietly without looking at Snape. "It was decided yesterday, by both the school Governors and the Ministry of Magic. Only as a temporary precaution, but it has fallen to me to inform you… Severus, until further notice, I am afraid that you are no longer welcome at Hogwarts."

Snape didn't move a muscle as he stared at Professor McGonagall in shock, his world seemingly crashing down around him.

"You don't trust me?" Snape accused the Headmistress bitterly after a long, ringing silence. "After all I have done to make up for my past mistakes, you still don't trust me? After what I did _against _the Death Eaters? I would have died for you!"

"Severus," Professor McGonagall started, still not meeting Snape's eyes.

"You don't, do you," Snape stated coldly. "I have made mistakes and I'm not proud of them but still… I would have willingly given up my life last month so the Dark Lord can be defeated when the time comes!"

"No one's challenging your bravery, Severus, but…"

"But what?"

"It's not a question of whether you'd have given up your life, Professor," Hermione answered quietly for the first time. "This is more complex than that; and you know it is."

"Shut your mouth, Mudblood. I did not ask for your opinion."

Professor McGonagall seemed to snap suddenly as Snape called the Charms teacher a Mudblood.

"Get out," she said coldly, standing up. "Do not ever speak to Hermione, or anyone else for that matter, that way again. You are no longer welcome here at Hogwarts as I said. It is comments like that which are the reason why."

Snape turned on his heel, his black robes brushing the floor behind him. "I trusted you," he breathed just as he was about to close the door to the office behind him. "And you have just confirmed what I always knew. No one has ever trusted me, not really. For my whole life, there has been nothing but lies. I have been nothing but a pawn, used so that others can survive, and now I am reaping the rewards for my trouble.

"Just know," Snape continued in a bitter hiss, "that you are turning me effectively over to the remaining Death Eaters who are out there and who want revenge, not to mention the Dark Lord himself. I won't go looking for them, but if anything happens…"

Snape slammed the door, his whole body betraying his anger. Professor McGonagall dropped her head onto her wrinkled hand.

"Oh god, what have the Governors done? What have _I_ done?" she whispered.

For once, not even Hermione could think of an answer as she stared at the door the Potions master had just left through.

For two weeks, there was no sound from the disgraced Spy. He had, quite simply, vanished. The Death Eaters too, had been unusually quiet and there was widespread hope in the Wizarding world that Voldemort would not attack for a long time as he tried to increase his ranks. Little did Hermione know, however, that her world was about to be turned upside down in the most brutal fashion possible.

* * *

Snape returned to Spinner's End after he had left Hogwarts. He hated the house he had grown up in but still, he had nowhere else to go. For two weeks, he remained in the house trying to hold some form of control over his life. The Potions master was agitated; he just didn't know what to do with himself. Snape found that he was hovering somewhere between the two opposing sides as he felt distrust pressing into him everywhere he turned.

He was a traitor, and everyone knew it.

The house was silent; no one from the Order of the Phoenix, or Hogwarts, had tried to contact him although to be fair, he hadn't tried to contact _them_ either. No, what worried Snape most was the fact that the Dark Lord hadn't summoned him. Not once since the attack had Snape felt the Dark Mark burn although it had become irritated and sore a few hours after the battle, and it had remained that way ever since. The Potions master knew the Dark Lord was taunting him but he also knew that it meant he was plotting something.

_Against me…_

Finally unable to withstand the gloom which hung over the Snape family home for the two weeks he had resided there, Snape left its dark walls and walked the twelve miles into central London in a little under four hours. He could have Apparated but since he had no idea where he was going, there was no point; the Half-Blood Prince just wanted to escape from what he had left behind.

Snape hesitated on Kennington Lane, half considering turning east and then heading along the side of the river Thames towards Parliament Square. The sight of a group of cheerful holidaymakers walking towards him changed his mind. Swiftly, he crossed the road and headed up Tyers Street which was much quieter and still headed in the vague direction Snape wanted to go in.

It was a decision which would ultimately change his life forever.

Snape walked swiftly down the road, his black shirt and dark trousers helping to keep him concealed as he slipped through the shadows of the buildings more out of habit than anything else. Before leaving Spinner's End, he had decided against wearing his robes as they would draw too much attention to him. Even so, as he glanced nervously behind him, he couldn't somehow throw off the feeling he was being watched. Closely.

_I should never have come here,_ he thought grimly as a threatening roll of thunder sounded in the distance. _This doesn't feel right somehow…_

A wind picked up as he rounded the corner at Tyers Street and turned into Black Prince Road. He turned left, heading towards the south bank of the River Thames without breaking his stride.

_Stop being so paranoid,_ he tried to convince himself in grim unease. _You're the only one here…_

Nothing was moving; every living soul seemed to be seeking refuge in the shops and offices in the face of the oncoming storm.

_Pathetic,_ Snape thought in mild disdain. _It's not even raining yet…_

Despite his self assurances, the Half-Blood Prince couldn't help but feel on edge. Someone had been following him, he was sure of it. Snape shook himself mentally; he was just tired and his mind was playing tricks on him. Even so, he began to subconsciously worry that his years of spying and being careful had taken their toll at last. His dark prediction just before he had left Hogwarts had just been an empty threat, after all. As far as he could help, nothing was going to happen to him at all.

_I'm just getting paranoid…_

There was a slight movement from the darkened doorway of a slightly run down office block. Without pausing to think, Snape plunged his hand into his trouser pocket and groped for his wand. Just as his fist closed around it, something struck him in the back of the knees and with a yelp of pain, he was forced to the floor as his arms were wrenched behind him. The unexpected roughness of the other man's grip dislodged his wand from his hand and it remained in his pocket, tantalisingly close and yet so out of reach.

_Damn…_

"You worthless traitor," a gruff voice snarled, twisting his arm further behind him.

Snape froze.

_Oh Merlin…_

"Deceiving scum like you don't deserve to live; you deserve a long, slow, painful demise..."

Slowly, the Potions master's numbed brain started to grind back into action and he started to struggle to pull himself free from the other man's arm lock. He tried to Disapparate but he just couldn't summon the energy to do so. Days of surviving on minimal food and drink had sapped much of his strength and the long walk into London had tired him more than he had expected.

"Vengeance is sweet," the Death Eater hissed. "And think how my Master will reward me when I return…"

"You incompetent fool, you've got the wrong man!" Snape spat bitterly, well aware that he was lying, as he felt himself forced roughly forwards while the grip on his arms only got tighter. Wandless, he had never felt so vulnerable before; the man behind him was far superior to him in both size and strength, not to mention that he'd had the advantage to start with.

_And I never was any good at Muggle fighting…_

"Have I?" the man snarled, twisting Snape's arms further. "Have I got the wrong man? I think not…"

Snape flinched as the man behind him yanked his head back by his dark hair and he briefly caught a glimpse of an unusually thin wand pointing into his face. A split second later, blows came raining down on him from seemingly every angle and after a few moments, something immeasurably heavy collided with the side of his head sending the Half-Blood Prince flying across the pavement into the road. Snape was consciously aware of the hard, gritty tarmac his head had collided with but he still painfully glanced up at the three figures walking towards him. Two of them were broad and heavily muscled while a thinner one, slightly shorter, stood between them with his wand raised. From the floor, the spy couldn't see details clearly – his left eye was swollen shut and he was feeling oddly light headed and dizzy, not to mention decidedly nauseous.

Snape watched helplessly as the smaller man raised his wand and pointed it at his ribs before muttering an incantation. There was a flash of light, a searing pain across his chest, and then there was… nothing.

* * *

**A/N : Love it, hate it or aren't you sure yet? I hope it was the former but I would love to know what you think: hint, hint… :) **


	2. Thinking

Thinking

Harry sat at the scrubbed table in the kitchen at the Burrow for a long time staring unseeingly at the wall in front of him. A crumpled _Daily Prophet_ lay next to his arm but he was disregarding it; the front page article hurt him more than he wanted to admit. For all the world to see, the headline read:

**HARRY POTTER IS OUR SAVIOUR ONCE MORE**

**BOY-WHO-LIVED STAYS MODEST IN LIMELIGHT**

_The legendary Harry Potter has remained 'down to earth and modest despite the pressures he has been placed under' according to Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour,_ writes Rita Skeeter, _Daily Prophet_ reporter. _Six weeks on from the brutal battle between the quiet, delicate twenty year old Harry and the ruthless power of You-Know-Who's supporters, the Boy-Who-Lived has returned to his childhood friend's home in the village of Ottery St. Catchpole with his long term girlfriend Ginevra Weasley._

_Our young hero has bravely stayed above the traumas of the last few weeks and has understandably declined comment on his teacher of six years while at Hogwarts, Prof. Severus Snape._ _The Potions master, whose current location is unknown, has not been seen since the last known clash between light and dark although a statement issued by the Education Spokesman, Andrew Davidson, has confirmed the rumours that Snape has been sacked from his job at Hogwarts School._

'_He was not in a position to teach', Mr Davidson said yesterday evening. 'His dismissal was the combined agreements of both the Ministry and the Board of Governors for Hogwarts and it is a decision which will hopefully put many people at ease now that the dubious nature of the Professor is no longer a risk for those at Hogwarts.'_

_Since last month's triumph, the mental state of the Professor has not been confirmed, nor has the truth behind his motives during the last battle. When the Death Eaters finally retreated at the brave hand of Harry Potter, the unstable Death Eater reputedly 'calmly pocketed his wand without so much as a glance at Harry Potter and left the grounds of Hogwarts and Disapparated'. Another onlooker also commented on how the Professor was looking 'unnaturally unruffled, almost as if he had shut down his emotions, if indeed he has any, and was nothing but an empty shell. It is possible that he has already been subject to a Dementor's Kiss although this seems unlikely'._

_Severus Snape is currently on the Ministry of Magic's 'Most Wanted' list and anyone who has seen him is requested to contact the Ministry as soon as possible. The Head of the Auror sector, Arnold Grey, has warned the public to 'remain vigilant and not to put their own lives at risk. We strongly recommend that no one approaches any known Death Eaters at all although Severus Snape is one who should only be approached by Aurors'. Unusually, the Aurors Kingsley Shacklebolt, Alastor Moody and Nymphadora Tonks have so far made no comment on the current situation and are refusing to answer reporters' questions. The same response is seen from all the staff currently at Hogwarts._

_Minster for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, today also called for an edict which will enable parents to monitor their children while at Hogwarts if…_

Harry didn't know what to think; he hated Snape with all his heart and he always would. It was a direct consequence of the events of his sixth year: Harry couldn't forgive the man who had murdered his mentor and sent Voldemort after his parents all those years ago.

Still, if it hadn't been for the greasy git the month before…

The Death Eaters had been far stronger than Harry had been anticipating. Their spells had come so fast and continually that it was all Harry could do to block them, let alone fight back. Harry had felt, after about ten minutes, someone taller than him standing beside him and reeling curses and jinxes off faster than Harry could keep track of them. For a split second, Harry had been half convinced that it was Albus Dumbledore beside him but he almost instantly caught site of a thin, pale hand and black robes. Harry had recognised the wand instantly, having faced it on many an occasion while having Occlumency lessons.

Snape was attacking the Death Eaters and Harry had no idea why.

The Potions master didn't seem to be making any attempt to cast counter jinxes to any of the spells sent back at him by Voldemort's followers and instead just kept up a constant, unwavering assault on the Dark Lord's ranks. Some instinct told Harry to deflect the retaliating spells away from them both and he subconsciously waited for Snape to say something to him.

After what felt like an age, the Half-Blood Prince had hissed 'Now!'

Harry did as he was told and cast his first stunning spell against Lucius Malfoy just as Snape fired off his own curse. There had been a bloodcurdling scream, a dull hissing noise, loud cracks as the Death Eaters Disapparated, and then silence. As Harry gaped at the pile of ash in front of him where Lucius Malfoy had been standing moments before, Harry felt Snape slowly lower his wand next to him and Harry glanced at the Half-Blood Prince, half prepared to defend himself from Snape's wrath, but the Potions master's face had been as blank as a clean sheet of parchment. The Half-Blood Prince had cast a spell at Malfoy at the same moment as he had and the two spells combined had disintegrated the blond Death Eater into dust.

Coolly, Snape had pocketed his wand without so much as a flicker of hate, anger or relief on his pale face as he had unhurriedly stepped away from Harry. Everyone present backed away as Snape walked towards them, fear and loathing on their faces, but the Half-Blood Prince ignored them and threw up the hood of his black cloak, covering his face in shadow. Without a word, Snape headed quickly down to the gates of the school and Disapparated as soon as he could without looking back.

That was six weeks ago, and Harry had seen nothing of him since.

The Daily Prophet had been quick to label Harry as their wonder boy after the fight but Snape's role had been oddly dulled down while simultaneously blown out of all proportion in the wrong areas. The _Prophet_ had made the Half-Blood Prince seem like a crazed, out of control lunatic who had no restraint over his actions. If you only believed half of what was printed, you would quickly come to the assumption that Snape was as capricious and unpredictable as possible; as insane as Voldemort and driven only by hatred and a lust for pain and violence. They also made Snape appear as if he had no control of his emotions, including his temper, when he came under pressure from Voldemort or his Death Eaters.

Harry didn't believe a word of it.

Snape had to be one of the most calculating, psychologically controlled people he had ever met. The Half-Blood Prince's true emotions were something he had an ironclad control over and he had never let his hold on them slip except on two occasions: the end of Harry's third and sixth years. Other then that, trying to get Snape to reveal what he was truly thinking was a pointless as trying to get blood out of a stone. Snape appeared to be able to shut down at will, his eyes betraying none of his real thoughts, and it was this ability which made him seem all the more distant and cold.

Although Harry was certain that what the _Prophet_ was reporting was nothing more than out of proportion lies, he couldn't bring himself to say anything in the Half-Blood Prince's defence. Nor though, could he bring himself to the frame of mind to admit his hatred of the Potions master to the Wizarding world either. Snape, Harry had realised, had also given no indication of why he had done what he had and Harry was inclined to copy him. It just seemed to make life easier.

"Sickle for your thoughts?"

"What?"

Ginny giggled as Harry looked at her guiltily. "Now then, Potter, what have I told you about daydreaming all day when there's washing up to be done!"

Harry smiled genuinely although his voice was strained when he spoke. "Sorry, Gin, I'll do it now."

"Hey, Harry," Ginny said softly as her boyfriend made to stand up. "I didn't mean it like that. What's wrong? More lies again?"

"Yeah," Harry murmured, folding up the paper. "Nothing new, just loads more nonsense about how I'm a hero and Snape's a lunatic."

"Well, he is, isn't he?"

"I…" Harry hesitated, blushing slightly. "I don't know, Ginny. Maybe he is, and I'm not defending what he's done, but he did help, you know, at the end. I was losing…"

"I thought so too," Ginny added lightly. "That he helped, I mean, not you were losing. Snape's a git, no one's denying that, but he's not a psychopath. He's not insane; far from it."

Harry looked at Ginny sharply. "Why? Why do you think that?" he said, sounding almost pleading.

"He fought for you, in the end," Ginny said simply. "He stood beside you and fought for you; he didn't have to do that. Because I think he was on the same side as you are, I won't condemn him."

"Should I, you know, say something to the _Prophet_?"

"No," Ginny responded instantly. "Not unless it is what _you_ want to do. Until then, I wouldn't say anything. Look, why don't we change the subject; you seen Hermione lately?"

"No," Harry answered quickly, taking Ginny's lead gratefully. "Have you?"

"No, I might go and Floo her now, actually. Put some lunch on, could you?"

For an hour or so, everything was relaxed at the Burrow; Ginny hadn't been able to contact Hermione but she just assumed she had been picking up supplies for Hogwarts. Harry had made some sandwiches and both he and Ginny sat together on the worn coach just enjoying each other's company. Suddenly, Harry tensed beside his girlfriend.

"Harry?"

For a long moment, Harry stayed motionless. "I don't know," he said finally. "I just… It was only a weird feeling. Like something was wrong."

"What kind of thing? You scar? Voldemort?"

Harry shrugged awkwardly. "I dunno. It just felt a bit strange."

"It was probably just the after effects of the sandwiches. Don't worry, it's perfectly normal to feel that way after you've cooked something. You can't make a couple of rolls without messing up at least one of them!" Ginny said jokingly, not taking Harry seriously.

"Huh?" Harry said vaguely.

Ginny smiled, trying to lift Harry's sombre mood. "You've got to stop 'zoning out, mate,' as Ron would say."

"Sorry," Harry said again. "Just after what happened with Voldemort… it just seems weird to not have to _worry_, somehow; at least until he's got his ranks back into order. I know it's stupid but I just can't stop thinking about what happened."

Harry dropped his head onto Ginny's shoulder. "I never thought I'd live to be able to do this," he murmured. "I thought thing's would…"

"Shhhh," Ginny interrupted quietly. "Some of the worst is over now for you; for almost everyone. It's only the Death Eaters who are having a rough time for the moment and they, quite frankly, deserve it."

"This isn't over yet, Ginny," Harry said agitatedly. "Voldemort's unharmed. No, this war is far from over. But there's something wrong. Right now," he finished with a small shudder.

"Come again?" Ginny said carefully, watching Harry closely. "What kind of thing is wrong? Voldemort…?"

"Maybe," Harry said slowly. "I guess… I think… it almost feels like someone's dying."

"Who?" Ginny asked, instantly afraid.

"I dunno," Harry muttered, rubbing his scar subconsciously. "Maybe I'm just imagining it. It just felt like someone was crying out for help somehow. I know it's impossible though, and the feeling's gone now. I think I was just imagining it," he finished more definitely.

"You never know, it could be Snape…"

Harry smiled cynically. "Not likely; he's had a rough enough time already over the last few weeks but when does Snape ask anyone for help? And, more to the point, when would Snape ask _me_ for help? No, I think I'm just being paranoid, Ginny. It's weird though, I've got a feeling that things have changed somehow."

Ginny looked at Harry nervously. "Things never stay the same, Harry. Everything is changing, all the time, and what we all need to do is learn to move on. We've done it before; just put the past behind you."

"Fancy a game of Quidditch? One on one?"

"_Boys…_" Ginny muttered under her breath as Harry stood up, clearly not wanting to continue the conversation. "Hermione was right, emotional capacity of a teaspoon…"

Even so, she followed Harry out into the sunshine and allowed the Wizarding worlds' hero forget his concerns, at least for a while. As Harry dropped into a steep dive, Ginny's words came back to him.

"_Things never stay the same…"_

Ginny was right: things never _did_ stay the same for any great period of time; the world was changing around them faster and more violently than they realised. Things were about to change forever, and the results of it would mean the world was not to be the same place as it had been, ever again.

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed that and I'd love to know your thoughts on this so far (hint... hint...) Thanks very much to those of you who have let me know.

Charbar - Thanks a lot! I'm so pleased you like it and I'm glad you think my grammar's ok!

* * *


	3. Painful Consequences

Painful Consequences

"Dear god, what happened here!"

"No idea. I heard screams…"

"Who is he?"

"Don't know…"

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure. I thought I saw three blokes, two of them real thugs, but they seemed to have just vanished."

"I heard a few cracking noises, if that means anything…?"

"Has anyone called an ambulance yet?"

"I'll go, my office is closest."

"Be quick. I don't know how long he'll hold out for. He's been beaten up pretty bad…"

Someone snorted with grim amusement.

"'_Pretty bad'_! Bloody hell, what does it take to be really bad!"

"Anyone here a doctor or anything?"

"Yes! Excuse me please. Excuse me. I'm a nurse if that's any goo…" She stopped abruptly, staring at the tall, slim figure in front of her in utter horror.

The man was sprawled on the cracked tarmac, his face chalk white beneath the blood. His dark hair was stringy and matted and a livid, black bruise was covering most of his face. His leg was bent, not at a joint, into an unnatural angle and one of his arms was twisted and blood streaked. His thin wrist was bent back on itself and a red stain was dripping quietly from a scored line across his abdomen.

Swallowing her revulsion, the nurse knelt down next to him and pulled up his shirt to see how deep the cut was beneath his clothes. Someone passed her a sweatshirt, which she placed across the obviously grievous wound in a hope to stem the flow.

"Hello. I'm Margaret Woods and I'm a nurse. How are you and what's your name?"

A strange silence ensued as everyone waited for a response, which never came.

"Can you hear me?" she repeated loudly as she tilted his head back slightly with her right hand while opening his mouth with her left. She was unsurprised when there was no answer.

"They're coming," someone called from an office doorway as he ran back over to the small crowd surrounding the man. "I've just spoken to them so they should be here any minute."

"Is it going to be Guy's or St. Thomas'?"

"Who cares! They both know what they're doing…"

"St. Thomas' is closer…"

A distant wailing of sirens could be heard a few minutes later which grew steadily louder. Soon afterwards, an ambulance slowed to a stop near the group and two paramedics jumped out, each holding either a bag or some other form of equipment.

"Has he been conscious at all?" one of the paramedics said calmly, without preamble, as he walked over to the pale man's crushed body.

"No," the nurse, Margaret, answered as she stepped out of the way. "He's been unconscious for at least ten minutes although he has been breathing on his own. He's sustained what looks to be a stab wound in his abdominal region."

The two paramedics glanced at each other and exchanged dark looks before they crouched down next to the man.

"Hello, can you hear me?" he called as he lifted the man's chin carefully, which had fallen back onto his chest as soon as the nurse had let go of it. Without waiting for a response, the paramedic looked over to the ambulance where his colleague was collecting a stretcher. "Bob, phone ahead to Guy's and tell them to prepare for a serious trauma victim; critical chest injury, serious head trauma and possible spinal injuries."

For a few more minutes, the paramedics worked in almost total silence. One was strapping each of the man's limbs in splints and trying to stem some of the bleeding while the other was continually checking his vital signs. After a further ten minutes, one of the medics suddenly stood up and dragged the stretcher closer.

"Sam! On three. One. Two. Three."

Together, they picked up the man from the floor and placed him onto the gurney, carefully supporting his back and neck as they put him on the stretcher with infinite care. A second later, the strange, pale faced, greasy haired man went suddenly limp as he stopped breathing. One of the paramedics noticed instantly and issued a harsh sounding command: "Scoop and run."

Together, the two paramedics pushed the gurney into the back of the ambulance and instantly hooked the man on it up to two IV lines. The second paramedic, Sam, pulled a mask over the man's nose and mouth and started to turn the dial which controlled the oxygen flow.

"What do you reckon? Twelve litres a minute or fourteen?"

"Fourteen. This guy's critical now," the other medic answered with a trace of despair creeping into his voice.

The sirens wailed into life as soon as the doors of the ambulance were slammed shut. One of the paramedics attached several sensors to the collapsed man's chest and several of the monitors started to trace out a thin line across the screen. One of the paramedics closed his eyes for a second in defeat.

"We're losing him, Bob. He's in hemorrhagic shock; are you going to call it or shall I?"

"He's not dead yet, Sam," the second paramedic answered with a snarl. "Don't give up on him; there's always a chance, always a hope…"

A minute later, the ambulance pulled to a steady stop and two waiting nurses flung the back doors of the ambulance open before helping the two paramedics to lower the stretcher on to the floor. Pushing open the double hinged doors, the two paramedics wheeled the gurney quickly into the corridor where they continued straight on as fast as they sensibly could. Neither of them bothered to read the letters stamped in a glowing red across the doors as they pushed their patient into the midst of at least four waiting doctors and countless nurses.

The nurses following them did read the sign though and they flinched involuntarily.

EMERGENCY ROOM

"Status?" one of the senior doctors asked as soon as they came through the doors.

"Approximately forty year old male. E one, M three, V two. In shock and suffering from an abdominal stab wound, hemopneumothorax caused by broken ribs and severe head trauma as well as a fractured femur and ulna. Fractured spine is possible. Well, is very likely, to be perfectly frank.''

One of the doctors took in a breath with a sharp hiss. "May I make a suggestion? Someone phone Jones down in surgery and get Morison over here from resus."

"Any family?" one of the other doctors asked distractedly as he finished cutting away the man's dark clothing.

"Not that we know of…"

For several minutes, the four doctors worked continually trying to slow down some of the bleeding while the two paramedics did everything in their power to keep the man's airway clear. The machines surrounding them were flickering continually as the readings they were taking began to drop languidly. Almost everyone present looked up as soon as they realised and the darkly significant looks they exchanged briefly said everything – almost all of them had given the man up as a dead loss. Literally.

"Concentrate," one of the doctors spat as he pushed a needle into Snape's thin arm. "He's still fighting; he hasn't given up so neither should you."

"Surgeon Jones says he's ready and waiting," one of the nurses said breathlessly a moment later. "He asked me to say you can take him down as soon as you feel he's stable enough to; everything is set up to receive him. Morison's already down there."

A couple of the senior doctors nodded to each other in unspoken agreement. "We'll take him now, then. And as for being stable, you've got to be joking."

One of the doctors hit the button calling the lift up from the theatre and as soon as it arrived, the doctors pushed the stretcher into the space. The most senior doctor started issuing sharp orders as he shone a small penlight into the Potions master's vacant eyes.

"Me and Jack will take him down to theatre as quick as we can. As I said, we'll have to stabilise him there: he's critical. Jane, I want a stat EKG and six bags of O Neg. blood, looks like we're going to need it."

One of the nurses nodded and turned away quickly. The Half-Blood Prince made no visible move, seemingly oblivious to the chaos going on around him; _because_ of him.

"Good luck to him," Sam said grimly, his job now over, as the doors slid closed and the lift itself moved downwards into the operating theatres. "Good god, he's going to need a miracle. I cannot believe that any human being could be that cruel to do that to someone deliberately – those sorts of injuries aren't exactly caused by accident."

Several other people nodded in resigned agreement as an odd, saddened silence only intensified the tense atmosphere.

"I just hope he lives through it," someone added quietly. "An attack like that - it all just seems so unnecessary and pointless to me."

"I know what you mean," a doctor answered, pulling off his thin, blood soaked gloves in anger. "It's times like this where I'd do anything for a magic wand which could just put everything right with one simple wave." He tailed off into silence, gesturing flicking an invisible wand. "Did he have anything on him that we could identify him with? Someone has got to know who he is and come searching for him eventually but it would be better if we could contact them first."

"We found some possessions on him in at the scene," Sam said, walking over to a small bag one of the nurses had brought in from the ambulance. "A bottle of something, a letter and _this_."

"That's just a stick; what does he carry that around for?" one of the nurses said in surprise.

Sam shrugged, passing it to the doctor who was looking curious. "There you go, Doctor," he said jokingly in a desperate attempt to lighten the depressed atmosphere. "A stick for you. You never know, dose yourself up on enough Morphine, or Vodka, and you'd be able to pretend it's a wand."

The doctor threw Sam a filthy look.

"Severus Snape," one of the nurses said suddenly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"That man: his name is Severus Snape. It's on the letter. It says he lives at Spinner's End, which I guess is in Spinner's Avenue which is only, what, about fifteen miles away? And it also mentions Minerva McGonagall and a place called Hogwarts. Never heard of there though."

The doctor looked mildly curious. "Take it up to reception and they'll contact this McGonagall person and see if she can tell us anything more. Take that bottle and this stick thing with you. It looks like it's important to Severus, or whatever his name was."

"Magic wand, Doctor, not stick," Sam said with a half hearted smirk, dodging the playful swipe sent at him. "Honestly though, the weirdoes you get now; he looked like he'd been through the mill a bit, even before those sods beat him up."

"Shut up, Sam; the next thing you'll come out with is poor old Severus is a wizard or something. Or a vampire…"

Sam took the rod off the doctor saying "You never know…"

Quite simply, Sam didn't know that his harmless guessing as to what the stick was had been spot on. He was a Muggle; his guess had just been a falsely light hearted comment as he tried to deal with the horrors they had all just had to contend with. The doctor, however, had been less accurate than the young paramedic had been. No simple wave of a magic wand would be able to help Severus this time; there was only so far magic could heal someone and even then it only speeded up the natural healing process; it couldn't create miracles.

Somewhere in the bowels of Guy's Hospital, four doctors were struggling to save a man they didn't even know the name of. As the time the Potions master wavered on the thin line between life and death steadily increased, the odds of him ever waking up again were slowly dwindling.

Snape was fighting for his life but he was only holding on by a fraying thread. As the Half-Blood Prince became steadily weaker, a group of sick minded individuals drank in celebration of a job well done.

It was the middle of the evening and Hermione Granger was sitting quietly in her office at Hogwarts, absentmindedly stroking her cat, Crookshanks.

"He's been missing for weeks," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I wonder where he's got to. I thought that he'd at least contact us…"

Crookshanks purred loudly.

"Sorry, Crooks. I know I'm probably annoying you again."

Hermione sighed and picked up a book and started reading it. She got as far as the third paragraph before she slammed the book back down again.

"Where is he?" she repeated, glaring at Crookshanks as if she expected him to answer. "He's never been like this before, even when he was spying."

Reasons started to creep into Hermione's mind.

_He's just angry with you and Professor McGonagall…_

_He would have contacted you anyway,_ another voice hissed nastily. _He wouldn't just vanish off the face of the earth. Something's happened to him…_

_No, it hasn't…_ another voice added unconvincingly.

Hermione picked the book up again, thinking deeply.

The War had changed everyone; Harry and Ginny had grown steadily closer while she and Ron had drifted away. Their relationship had been fun while it lasted but the deaths of so many friends and Order members had forced the two of them apart. It had been said that times of trouble pulled people closer together but it also ripped whole families apart, too.

Hogwarts had also suffered; it had remained open throughout the War so far but ever since Dumbledore's death, it hadn't been the same. Professor McGonagall had tried her best but she wasn't ever in the same league as her predecessor.

The most drastic change in anyone, however, had come from the disgraced Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Snape had always been on the leaner side of normal but ever since he had been forced to murder Dumbledore, he'd been on the verge of skeletally thin with his face slowly turning to a waxy paleness as the days drifted on. Somehow, though, he'd managed to survive for this long despite his double agent role. He had partly redeemed himself in the last battle when he had stood shoulder to shoulder with Harry for the first and probably _last_ time as they attacked the Death Eaters together.

After the attack, Professor McGonagall had offered Snape his original position as Potions professor more out of conscience than anything else and Snape had accepted instantly, but his heart hadn't been in his job like it once had been. After a few weeks, it became apparent that Snape had suffered more emotional damage than physical injuries and as time wore on, he began to miss both meals and lessons more and more frequently and he sometimes disappeared for hours at a time. Professor McGonagall had not really had any choice when she had dismissed him; he just wasn't in a fit state to teach anyone anything.

There was a steady knock at the door and Hermione glanced up, jolted out of her thoughts. "Come in," she called quickly.

She was very surprised when Madam Pomfrey walked in closely followed by Professor McGonagall, the latter of which was worryingly pale. There was a tense silence for a few moments.

"What?" Hermione said nervously as neither of the two visitors made any move. _"What!"_

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said shakily, causing Hermione to shudder. Professor McGonagall _never_ used her full name anymore.

"What!" Hermione asked again, her nerves starting to get the better of her as the Headmistress bowed her head in sorrow.

"Miss Granger. It's Severus," she answered, sounding desperately guilty.

Hermione turned white at Professor McGonagall's words. "What about him?" Hermione said quickly. "What's happened? Tell me he's all right. Isn't he?" she added, suddenly afraid. Professor McGonagall started to say something before Madam Pomfrey interrupted in her characteristically strict voice.

"Professor Snape is anything _but_ all right, Professor. In truth, I would class what he has gone and done to himself as grievous to the extreme. Even worse than Potter usually does."

"No…" Hermione whispered, knowing full well that the news wouldn't be good.

"He was attacked in Black Prince Road, London, a few hours ago and was taken by Muggle ambulance to Guy's Hospital soon after the assault," the matron said bluntly as the Transfiguration teacher said nothing.

Hermione's eyes widened slightly. "Well, that's not too bad," she said shakily. "I mean, Guy's is a really good hospital and they treat loads of people and it's meant to be really great and everything and I'm sure they know what they're doing and…"

Madam Pomfrey held up her hand to stem Hermione's terrified babbling.

"Hermione," she said more gently, showing a much more caring, understanding side than she usually showed. "Does the Glasgow Coma Score mean anything to you?"

Hermione shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

"It's a rating used a lot by Muggle Trauma units, and St. Mungo's, to grade patients with regards to how deep a coma they are in. The Glasgow Coma Score, or GCS, is graded on a score of three to fifteen, with fifteen being best," Madam Pomfrey continued steadily as if she had decided that telling Hermione all the facts quickly was the best way to break the news to her.

"If the number is thirteen or higher, there is likely to be a mild brain injury; if it is between nine and twelve, there is often a moderate injury and if the score gets to less than eight, there is often a severe brain injury. When it gets that low, it's possible that the person will never fully recover. If the score drops to three, it means that, for the sake of a few minor technicalities, they are dead."

"Oh," Hermione said suddenly, absorbing the information remarkably calmly. "So Severus is what, fifteen? Fourteen? Thirteen? Twelve?" Her voice became slightly higher pitched with each number. "Eleven then?" she added, almost pleadingly.

Professor McGonagall raised he head slightly, her eyes betraying her utter sadness and remorse.

"It's eleven then. That's not too bad. It could be worse," Hermione tried to convince herself as she took in Minerva McGonagall's stricken gaze. "I mean, that's really bad but I think Madam Pomfrey said that's only slight damage. I mean, it's not as if it was lower than eight, is it…?"

Minerva McGonagall looked at her in undisguised regret, her beady eyes never leaving Hermione's brown ones.

"Hermione," she said, her voice muffled with guilt. "The last information we were told was that his score was a six, and that score is likely to drop further over the next hour or so."

Hermione started backing away in fear. "No…"

"Hermione," Madam Pomfrey started, looking suddenly strained and worried for the first time. "He didn't have any choice in this. He will fight his injuries as best he can but just don't get your hopes up too high. From what Guy's told me, it looks as if Professor Snape may never…"

"…wake up," Minerva McGonagall finished, looking unimaginably guilty.

"When can I see him?" Hermione asked, her voice cracking.

"Soon, I think," Madam Pomfrey answered in a professional voice as she reeled of the facts she knew. "I'm not sure exactly when. Guy's said that his condition was critical and that the Muggle Healers were having trouble stabilising him. They said that he had got critical injuries to his chest and he had a collapsed lung, as well as serious head injuries to make matters worse."

"When did the… you know… happen?"

"About five hours ago now. I suggest you rest, Hermione," Madam Pomfrey finished gently. "I will let you know as soon as we know anything more."

For three hours, Hermione stayed with Crookshanks absentmindedly stroking his fur as they all waited for news. She closed her eyes and dropped her head into her arms in sorrow. It was awful; there was nothing she could do except wait.

_This wasn't meant to happen…_

"Hermione?" Professor McGonagall called softly. "Hermione? It is time for you to wake up now. Hermione?"

Hermione woke with a start and looked wildly at the Headmistress.

"How's…"

"Guy's has just informed Madam Pomfrey that Severus is now out of theatre and is in a stable, but still critical, condition."

Hermione's lower lip started trembling as she looked into Minerva McGonagall's shadowed eyes as the Headmistress started speaking in a deadened voice.

"I am afraid to say that Severus is still in a coma and, from what the surgeon has told Madam Pomfrey and myself, it is unlikely he will awaken from it any time soon. Severus has broken several ribs, one of which had punctured his right lung, and he suffered a badly broken leg and a fractured wrist. He also has been struck on the head with massive force and the surgeon was not certain, but he said that it looks like the injury was caused by Severus being thrown over backwards and hitting his head on the road. He went into shock very early on as he has lost a lot of blood from a knife wound to his stomach and he has been unconscious since the attack itself occurred.

"So far, we have no idea who his attackers are or why they assaulted him. My only guess is Severus was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It is possible that the attackers intended on murdering Professor Snape after they had attacked him but the arrival of several Muggles forced them to flee, possibly through fear of being identified."

"When can I see him?" Hermione whispered.

Professor McGonagall sighed heavily, her eyes full of sorrow. "Severus came out of surgery an hour or so ago and is now in Intensive Care. You may visit him now if you wish, although," the Headmistress added, raising her hand to stop Hermione from standing up. "The surgeon who operated on Severus suggested that I came with you and also requested that any physical contact with him was to be as little as possible and we are not to touch his head or chest for any reason. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded awkwardly. "You said… maybe I… he's only just come out of theatre?"

"Yes, Hermione," the Headmistress answered faintly. "He has been in surgery for the last seven hours. My guess is that whoever attacked him had meant it to be murder; the surgeon said his injuries were some of the most extensive he'd ever seen."

With a grimace of fear, Hermione stood up and led the way down to the gates of Hogwarts in worried silence. Both teachers Disapparated to London as soon as they were outside the walls of the grounds. Together, Professor McGonagall and Hermione walked side by side up to the main desk of Guy's Hospital where a tired looking woman of about twenty looked up.

"Hello, how can I help you?"

"We are here to see Severus Snape, admitted by ambulance several hours ago. I was informed by Doctor Jones that it would be possible to visit him now."

"Certainly," the woman answered, looking down at a long list in front of her. "Ninth floor, ward six, room one." The woman looked slightly nervously at Hermione, who was looking terrified. "Maybe I should warn you now – I would strongly advise that you visited Surgeon Jones' office before you visit your… friend? In fact, I will inform him of you arrival so he can meet you now. The lifts are on your left."

"Thank you," Professor McGonagall answered softly before leading the now trembling Hermione over to the lift doors.

"Hermione, are you sure you want to go through with this?" the older Professor said, remarkably composed as she kept her emotions tightly in check.

Hermione violently shook her head, a tear dropping down her face. "No… I just want to… get it… sort of… over… you know… maybe… This is my fault!" Hermione burst out. "I… if Voldemort hadn't…"

Professor McGonagall looked sternly over her glasses at Hermione. "If this is anyone's fault, it is mine. It is my fault Severus was in London at all; if I hadn't…"

Professor McGonagall didn't finish her sentence as she walked into the lift shakily and pushed the 'nine' button. After a minute or so, the lift slowed to a standstill and the doors opened as a recorded message inside the lift said emotionlessly: "Floor Nine: Intensive Care".

Hermione blanched.

"Minerva McGonagall, I assume? And this would be…?"

"Hermione Granger," Professor McGonagall answered quietly to the tall, almost imposing man standing directly outside the lift doors in a cotton shirt and a mask still around his neck which had had not bothered to remove. "She was a close colleague of Severus, and knew him better than many..."

Hermione stared down a corridor in search of ward number six and didn't look up at the surgeon as he started speaking again.

_Oh Merlin; he'll be all right. He has to be all right. If only I hadn't agreed that Severus should be sacked… This won't be as bad as I think…_

"I am Surgeon Mark Jones and it was I who operated on Severus when he was brought in. The operation itself went remarkable well once we had controlled the bleeding and stabilised him, to an extent, and there were no extra complications, which is very encouraging. There is still a chance that your associate will make a relatively full recovery."

Relief washed over Hermione's face.

_So there is at least a chance. That's something… I was right, this will be fine. Severus will just be unconscious, like he's sleeping or something…_

"I feel it is only fair to warn you, however, that due to the severity of his injuries the chances of a full recovery are very low, but still possible; the odds of him surviving at all with his injuries are only about twenty to thirty percent. I am certain that the road back to full health is going to be a long, slow one I'm afraid. I'm so sorry," he finished, looking understanding.

The hope fell off Hermione's face with the suddenness of a bomb blast. Silently, she prepared for what she perceived to be the worst condition the acerbic Potions master could be in.

"Severus is through here," Doctor Jones said steadily, taking in Hermione's pale face with a sympathetic nod. "I suggest you prepare yourselves for a bit of a shock…"

He pushed open a polished, wood panelled door and stepped into the room. Professor McGonagall followed him tight lipped and in tense, expectant silence. Hermione took a moment to register that she should go into the room and she jerkily stepped over the threshold.

Hermione took one look at the immobile figure on the bed; and screamed.

* * *

To Be Continued…

Charbar: Thanks a lot for your kind encouragement and I'm so glad you're enjoying it! And as for feeling sorry for Snape… smiles

Old Crow: Have patience! And it has happened already – what do you think the reason of Snape being attacked in chapter 1 was? I hope everything becomes clear soon and thanks for reviewing!

Nancy: Thanks!

Galleena: I'm honoured! I'm so pleased you enjoyed it and as for who's dying… nope, not Hermione but good guess; sorry!

Ji: No, you haven't confused me! I'm so glad that you like it and that you'll enjoy what's coming!


	4. Coma

Coma

Hermione took one look at the immobile figure on the bed; and screamed.

The room itself was stiflingly warm and faint sounds from the road outside drifted through the partially open window of the wall opposite. The walls, ceiling and floor were all spotlessly clean and several strip lights, set into the ceiling, somehow intensified the glaring white of the room. The acrid stench of disinfectant was poignant and sharp, stinging Hermione's nose as she froze on the threshold of the room.

Even the worst possible situations Hermione had imagined fell a million miles short of what the truth really was. For a long moment, silence reigned as both Hermione and Professor McGonagall gaped at the Potions master in terrified disbelief.

When Snape had left Hogwarts three weeks earlier, he had been shrewd, calculating, sarcastic and angry. He had made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing more to do with either of them and both Professors had come to the same conclusion: Snape hated company and needing to rely on someone else was something he had vowed he neither needed nor wanted. He would never, _ever_, surrender himself to someone else's care or affections, openly preferring to handle his troubles alone. His complexion had always been pale with a slightly greyish tinge but there had always been some colour in his sallow cheeks while his dark hair had always been tidy, albeit greasy.

The figure on the bed Hermione rested eyes upon now, however, bore no resemblance whatsoever to the man who had left Hogwarts so recently and it made the state the bitter Potions master was in now all the more incredible, and terrible.

Snape was slumped motionlessly on the bed with a sheet pulled up to his thin waist and covering his leg which was clearly propped up underneath it. Wires seemed to surround him everywhere and several monitors were flashing around him as they detected his vital signs. Thick, gauze pads were strapped across Snape's wasted chest, not quite concealing his prominent, bruise blackened ribs and the edge of what looked like a deep incision across his breastbone. His pale, sticklike arms hung limply beside him where several intravenous lines fed various substances into his broken body while halfway down his left arm, the vivid scar of the Dark Mark stood out like a blood red stain. Several inches of inflamed skin surrounded it and it brought with it a sharp reminder to both teachers of Snape's somewhat shadowed past.

Hermione, feeling incredibly sick, traced her eyes up the Half-Blood Prince's frail body and settled her gaze on his face. Hermione's breath caught in her throat.

_Oh my god…_

Snape's face was white, as white as the pillow he was lying on, with not even the faintest yellowish tinge colouring his cheeks to alter its deathly pallor. A thin, jagged line of dried blood snaked its way along his chin while a deeper, stitched wound carved its way down his left cheek and onto his neck. A long bandage was wrapped around Snape's head and a livid bruise covered the right hand side of his face completely. A thick, brutal looking translucent tube fed into Snape's mouth from another machine, which emitted a soft hissing sound every few seconds as it inflated his lungs automatically.

Hermione just stared, stunned into silence, as she surveyed what had befallen the Order's only spy and the man who had won the most significant fight of the war so far for them.

_This wasn't meant to happen…_

Hesitantly, she stepped towards her old teacher and gingerly reached out her hand when she was directly beside him. As carefully as she could, she stretched out her fingers and lightly brushed a strand of black hair out of Snape's face. It was only then that she realised how guarded he looked, even in unconsciousness. It was almost as if some small, instinctive part of the Potions master was still clinging onto his life as a double agent and was trying to protect him, even now.

A tear dropped down Hermione's face.

She dragged her eyes away from Snape and looked at Professor McGonagall, who was holding the door handle for support.

"Are you both ok?" the doctor, Mark Jones, said consolingly as he too stepped over to Severus.

"Dear Merlin," Professor McGonagall breathed in horror, not letting go of her grip on the door handle. "I… didn't… quite…"

Hermione's gasp interrupted Professor McGonagall, the younger witch barely even hearing what the Headmistress of Hogwarts had just said. Mark Jones gently pulled Hermione's hand away from the lifeless spy.

"As I said earlier, I was encouraged by how well the operation went as a whole and I am hopeful that Severus here will be one of the lucky ones to make a good recovery. He certainly is a fighter," Dr. Jones added with a smile.

"Has he got a chance then?" Professor McGonagall asked slowly looking distinctly nauseous.

"Most definitely," Mark answered without hesitation. "As I said, he is a fighter in the extreme. The amount of blood he lost was staggering; I was honestly surprised that he was alive when he arrived here. When he was brought down to theatre, I put him onto a heart/lung bypass machine straight away and managed to stop the bleeding, although it was a bit touch and go for a long time. As soon as he was stable enough to be moved, we gave Severus a CT scan and the results, I'm pleased to say, showed that there has been remarkably little damage to his brain, if any, which will cause any long term side effects."

"But… but he's…" Hermione stuttered.

"I think you are referring to his current condition?" the doctor said slowly. "Severus is in a coma, induced by serious head injuries but mostly just as an after effect of losing so much blood, so quickly." The surgeon sounded emotionless as he stonily told Hermione what he knew. "He had sustained critical injuries to his chest and his airway was blocked soon after he arrived at the Hospital making normal use of a bag and mask impossible. One of our most senior doctors performed RSI and managed to prevent Severus' Coma Score from dropping any lower. It was eleven while he was at the scene but the moment he was moved, it fell to six. At one point during the operation it dropped to three, although only for a minute or so."

"That means he had died, doesn't it?" Professor McGonagall said quietly, sounding suddenly childlike.

"Simplistically, yes. He went into cardiac arrest so there was no heart beat, respiration rate or blood pressure. He pulled through it, however, and by the end of the operation he was back to a six. I was expecting that score to drop when we brought him out of surgery but it stayed constant. He has been an incredibly lucky young man; someone is obviously looking after him up there," he finished, indicating the sky out the window.

"It's a shame they did not look after him sooner and stop it from happening at all," Professor McGonagall said dryly, looking unnerved but more controlled than she had been.

"These things happen for a reason," Mark answered as he adjusted one of the bags of fluid feeding into Snape's wasted arm. "Well, that's my opinion, anyway."

"What can we do to help?" Hermione asked worriedly as she looked back at Snape's chalk like face.

"Be there for him," Mark responded simply. "Let him know you are there, and that you care. Some patients can hear when they're in a coma while others can't. The only thing you can do is try, and it certainly won't do any harm whatsoever. Try to talk about things which are positive and have some relevance to him, like his job or favourite hobbies; reading books aloud that he liked may also help; especially ones that he was fond of. Give him a reason to live," he finished softly, sounding incredibly composed.

"There's also something I should tell you about," Mark started a few minutes later as he broke the relative silence which had descended on the room. "And I am afraid that it is not good news."

"What?" Hermione asked softly, not sure how much more bad news she could take.

"I am so sorry," the surgeon said quietly, "but alongside his other injuries, Severus has also broken his back. A disk of cartilage seems to have slipped and looks on the scans we took that it has severed the spinal cord completely."

Professor McGonagall shot a frightened look at Hermione, who returned with a similar glance of terror.

_So that means…_

"As I am sure you aware of the complications of this, I will try to keep this a brief as possible," Mark continued, breaking into Hermione's thoughts like a drill. "When the spinal cord becomes severed, the nerve impulses can no longer travel along it so the connection between the lower limbs and the brain is lost. There are no chances of recovery and all sensation below the break will be no longer existent. Simplistically, Severus is never going to walk again."

Hermione bowed her head. _How is he going to survive if he can't even walk?_ she thought grimly. _He's not exactly one who is likely to be content with just sitting by a fire all day…_

"Here," Mark said quietly, opening a cupboard and pulling out a small bag. "These were found on Severus when the paramedics arrived at the scene. You may take them if you wish, or you can keep them here if you prefer."

"We'll take them," Professor McGonagall said in a muffled voice.

"Either myself or another doctor will inform you whenever there is any change, for better or worse," Mark said steadily. "I don't think you will be aware, but visiting hours are different for people with relatives in Intensive Care; it starts at seven in the morning and finishes at nine in the evening. There will be irregular times between those hours when you will be asked to leave, however. For example, if a patient's condition goes downhill, you will be required to leave immediately and you must do so without delay or question. It is sometimes a matter of life and death," he finished firmly.

Recognising that it was time for them to depart, Hermione and Professor McGonagall left the hospital leaving Severus alone, his wand in Hermione's pocket to keep safe until he recovered.

_If he recovers,_ a nasty voice hissed in the back of Hermione's mind, which she resolutely ignored. _Which, incidentally, he cannot do…_

The seed of doubt had been planted; she was devastated for the spy.

An hour later, Mark Jones looked in on the Half-Blood Prince for a final check before his shift ended. The doctor shook his head sadly as he glanced over the monitor screens, a frown creasing his brow.

He didn't know why, but for a long time afterwards he couldn't quite forget the feeling that had stolen up on him as he had been on ward six on the evening of the seventh of January; the evening when the strange, skeletally thin man had been rushed into Guy's hospital heavily unconscious from massive head and chest injuries.

He couldn't help but feel that there was something _different_ about Severus Snape that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He shook himself mentally: he was being stupid.

_Get a hold of yourself; he was just unconscious and you were tired, that's all…_

Even so, he couldn't explain quite how Severus had survived at all, or why he was in a coma in a critical condition with what looked liked minimal brain damage. It also confused him slightly that Snape had gone into cardiac arrest only to pull out of it as if nothing had happened. Something just wasn't quite hanging right. It was like magic…

Mark Jones sighed as he left the room Snape was in. What worried him most was the way he _knew_ that the aura engulfing room one was one of suffering.

And fear.

_9th January 2001_

"Any change?" Hermione said hopefully two days later as she met the surgeon, Mark Jones, just outside the lifts on floor nine.

"No," he answered heavily, sounding exhausted.

"But… when is he going to wake up? How long is this going to last?" Hermione asked desperately as she followed the neurosurgeon into his office. "Nothing's changed!"

Dr. Jones put his head in his hands for a second and rubbed his eyes. "It's impossible to say," he said slowly. "If he can make it through this week; well, that's the critical time for coma patients and if he can pull through it, there's a good chance that he will survive. Just be aware that Severus could be in a coma for a lot longer than that, years even, and there may well be permanent damage to his brain, we just cannot be sure."

"You mean…" Hermione faltered.

Mark sighed heavily. "We just don't know yet. There is the possibility that he will wake up in a few hours with his full faculties; that means no loss of balance, co ordination or memory. Equally though, there is the possibility that there will be complications; the effects of a coma are sometimes vast and I do not wish to scare you but it is important that you understand – he may not come out of it at all."

A long silence hung between the doctor and Hermione.

"Isn't there _anything_ you can do?" Hermione said quietly.

"Not that we aren't already doing, no," he answered gently. "The best thing you can do is to try and stay strong, and be there if and when he needs you. Just let him know that you care."

"I…" Hermione started before dropping her head onto her chest in defeat.

"Hey," Mark said quietly as he took in her tear stricken face. "Don't give up on him yet. I know this is hard for you… you can go and visit him now, if you wish. I will come with you as well if you want me to."

Hermione nodded awkwardly. "I'm scared," she whispered as the surgeon laid a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder as they both stood up.

"You wouldn't be human if you weren't," he responded calmly. "Trust me; we are doing everything we can do to help him to recover as fast as possible. The drugs Severus is on are very strong but they are designed to restore normal blood flow to his organs again. Please believe me when I say that we are doing everything that we can. It's up to Severus now; we will just have to wait."

As Hermione walked into Room One, she stopped again in the doorway in horror. The complexity of the wires and drips around Snape's lifeless frame overwhelmed her as they had done on the first time she had seen him. The steady bleep from an electrocardiogram broke the silence as it traced a line across the monitor screen.

"Steady," Mark said quietly as Hermione wavered slightly.

Hermione hesitantly stepped over to the side of Snape's bed and sat down as Mark placed a chair behind her. For about five minutes, nobody spoke.

"Are you all right now?" Mark asked simply.

"Yes," Hermione answered shakily without looking up. "I think I am. Sorry…"

"Good," Mark said easily, choosing to ignore her apology. "In that case, would you mind if I leave you for a while? My shift ended about an hour ago."

Hermione blushed and looked up at Mark's tanned, but obviously tired, face. "I'm sorry… I didn't… You should have said… sorry…"

The neurosurgeon smiled warmly. "Don't beat yourself up about it," he murmured. "I don't mind; giving a shoulder to cry on is what I'm here for, it's just part of my job. Well, that and trying to pick up the pieces after someone has gone and made a hell of a mess on a road somewhere," he added lightly.

Hermione smiled faintly. "You didn't have to…"

"I know I didn't," he said cheerfully. "But it was worth it just to see you smile. You've been walking around with the longest face on the planet for the last few days. Seriously though," he finished, looking back over his shoulder. "Have faith; hope is the most powerful healing process known to medicine. If you keep believing, and stay strong, you won't be disappointed. Talk to him, he will hear you."

For a long time, Hermione sat in silence as she stared unseeingly at the door Mark had just left through.

"Oh Professor," Hermione whispered at last. "Come back to us. It hurts everyone to see you like this. Please, just try to wake up. We need your help…"

Very gently, she reached over to the Potions master's bandaged head and gently brushed a strand of hair from his uninjured cheek. Snape didn't move or make even the slightest notion that he knew anyone was there. After a long, long time, Hermione stood up. When she looked at the Potions master now, she saw only a very frightened, rejected and hurt man who had made some terrible decisions in his life and had paid for them ten times over. As she stared at his white face, Hermione felt the first pang of sympathy for the Half-Blood Prince.

He had been only seventeen when he had told the Prophecy to Lord Voldemort. Three weeks before Voldemort discovered the location of the Potters, he had told Dumbledore what he had done and had changed sides from being a Death Eater to the Order's one and only spy.

_And now he's fighting for his life…_

"I'll be back soon," Hermione breathed, running her finger down his icy hand carefully before stepping over to the door. She consciously decided to ignore the niggling guilt of the debt she owed him in the back of her mind – the guilt which reminded her of what had happened in August when Lucius Malfoy had…

_No_, she told herself firmly. _Just get a grip on yourself… Move on…_ _Stop thinking about Malfoy…_

For a moment, she looked back and half heartedly waited for a response from the acerbic Potions master, and spy, which to her knowledge never came. With a resigned sigh, she closed to door behind her just as a fresh tear rolled down her cheek.

If she had waited only a few more seconds, she would have seen the response she, Minerva McGonagall and Poppy Pomfrey had been so longing to see. Snape knew more than anyone what had happened and everyone, most importantly the Order of the Phoenix, needed to know the truth behind his attack if the culprits were ever going to be caught.

In truth, the Order couldn't defeat Voldemort until Snape told them what to do.

Snape had heard, and understood, every word which had been spoken by both Hermione and Dr. Jones and he moved his head a fraction of an inch towards the now closed door just as he heard Hermione give a small sob. He instantly realised that the annoying, know-it-all Gryffindor had just left and frowned mentally in disgust at Hermione's show of emotion. When he had found her in August at Malfoy Manor, it had somehow triggered of the idea that Hermione felt that she owed him some form of repayment.

The stupid twit was only there to offer her sympathy, nothing more.

He would wait though; he knew someone from Hogwarts would return soon enough and he would explain everything as soon as he could. He wished he could answer their questions now, but every time he tried, he was just too exhausted to force the words out. As the unnatural darkness dragged him back into nothingness again, he waited patiently for someone to return.

It was several hours before he next heard her voice. Well, he thought it was several hours, anyway.

Minerva McGonagall, Hermione Granger, Mark Jones and Madam Pomfrey knew differently. Soon after Hermione had left, he had slipped peacefully back into a coma so deep that even the specialist neurosurgeon flown into Guy's to see him was stumped for any suggestions on how to treat him. Never, in the combined careers of both surgeons, had they ever seen anything like it.

Snape was hanging onto life by a hair. Nothing changed for the next nineteen days until five past two in the afternoon, precisely ten weeks to the day since he fought beside Harry against the Death Eaters and three weeks to the hour since the assault on him on Black Prince Road.

The Death Eaters who had been reinforcing the spell they had cast over the Half-Blood Prince forgot to recast it at the time of the accident. Their lapse in judgement gave Snape the chance he needed to fight his way free of its deadly hold. For some unknown reason, Snape had the strangest idea that he was running out of time and, with a desperate effort, he tried to call out.

"_No!"_

Mark Jones froze beside him, his face dumbstruck.

_Don't leave,_ Snape thought desperately as he grasped the distant idea that Professor McGonagall was there. _For Merlin's sake, you're an Order member. There are Death Eaters all over the capital, and they're going to target Muggles next time…_

"Severus?" Mark said cautiously, his hand hovering over the switch to turn of the life support machine.

"No…" Snape moaned. "Don't… No… Stop… Please…"

"Poppy!" Mark shouted as he flicked his eyes over the monitors which had just sparked into life. "Minerva! Hermione! Get back here now!"

Professor McGonagall, Hermione and Madam Pomfrey spun round as soon as she heard the surgeon's disbelieving yell and bolted back to the room, Professor McGonagall brushing her tears away with her hand. She'd just agreed that the life support machine was to be switched off; they had all concluded that the Half-Blood Prince was never going to recover…

"Please," Snape whispered. "Don't."

The three witches froze as Hermione forced open the door of Room One.

"Don't," Snape repeated painfully quietly, causing Madam Pomfrey to shake her head in stunned disbelief. "Death… Eater… curse… wait…"

Everything clicked into place in Hermione's head in an instant. The way Snape had been in a weird unconsciousness. How he'd not reacted to the drugs he'd been given like a normal coma patient. How he had worsened each day at the same time for an hour or so at the exact moment of the attack before returning to the same as before. How his attackers had not been found but witnesses said they heard cracking noises and the men just vanished, literally. Just now; he should have got worse at this time but instead he recovered. And how the two surgeons said that the fact Snape was alive at all was a miracle; that it was like magic…

"What did they hit you with?" Hermione said shakily, completely forgetting that there was a Muggle doctor present and seemingly oblivious to Professor McGonagall's and Madam Pomfrey's dire hisses of warning. "Which spell did they use?"

"Don't… know," Snape groaned, his eyes closed. "Hurts. Everything… hurts."

"Hold on, Severus," Mark said quietly. "Don't give in. Just a couple of minutes…" The surgeon pulled an oxygen mask off the hook on the wall above Snape's head and pulled it over the Potions master's mouth and nose. Snape instantly tried to resist but he was much too weak to put up any form of a fight.

"No…"

"Yes," Mark said firmly. "It's only oxygen, nothing more. You'll still be able to talk but it will help you to breathe a bit easier. You've had one very similar to this on for the last three weeks; we only took it off a few minutes ago because we had decided to switch off the…" Mark tailed off, not willing to finish his sentence. Snape didn't need to know that they were about to let him slip away if he hadn't just spoken.

"There's going to be a small prick on your arm in a second too because I'm going to give you some painkillers, ok?" Mark added decisively, his voice stronger again.

The three witches watched as the doctor picked up a long, vicious looking needle and filled it with a clear, watery liquid.

"Demerol," he said quietly. "A morphine substitute." Snape clenched his teeth as Mark skilfully injected the drug into his arm but within a few moments, the Half-Blood Prince felt the pain receding slightly.

"Better?" Mark asked clearly.

"Day…?"

"Day? Do you mean what day is it today? It's the 28th January and about quarter past two in the afternoon now," Mark answered as Snape grimaced.

"Don't… go…" Snape choked out quietly.

"It's ok, Professor," Professor McGonagall whispered. "We're here. You're not on your own. Don't give up. Hold on; you can fight this."

"I'm… trying…" Snape breathed in a muffled whisper before letting his head drop back slightly on the pillow, his eyes still closed. Hermione yelped in fear.

"Is… has he…?"

"No," Mark answered reassuringly. "He's just asleep; not even unconscious this time. I don't mind saying so, but… well… My god," he finished, shaking his head. "I wasn't expecting… Does Severus enjoy living life dangerously or something! He couldn't have cut that much finer if he'd tried."

Professor McGonagall smiled wanly; it was the first time she had been able to do so for days. "You could say that. Severus does have a knack of, er, taking things to extremes."

"I won't ask," Mark answered softly. "I don't want to jump the gun too much but from those readings," he indicated the machines with his head, "I would hazard a guess that the worst is over now. I think you could say that he's just made up for the last three weeks in about five minutes. It's like magic."

"Yes," Madam Pomfrey murmured with a shake of her head in response to the irony of the Doctor's last comment. "Just like magic…"

The Half-Blood Prince slept on, his breathing steady and even. He had come such a long way already, but a small part of him acknowledged that there was still an immensely long way to go.

And it was going to be a rougher ride than he was anticipating.

_29th January 2001:_

**PAYING THE ULTIMATE PRICE:**

**TRAITOR DIES AFTER ASSAULT IN LONDON**

By Rita Skeeter

_Rumours emerged yesterday that Severus Snape, former Potions master of Hogwarts and supposed spy for Albus Dumbledore, died last night in a Muggle hospital after sustaining unsurvivable injuries in an unprovoked attack in London three weeks ago._

_Snape, who has not been seen since his controversial attack alongside Harry Potter against the Death Eaters in the battle in Hogsmeade, is believed to have been brutally beaten while walking down Black Prince Road on the morning of January 7th. The forty-one year old Potions master supposedly sustained massive chest injuries which resulted in a collapsed lung and catastrophic blood loss alongside severe head injuries which knocked him into a coma at the scene. _

_His condition, the _Daily Prophet_ can exclusively reveal, was so critical that he could not be moved to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and instead was forced to stay at an undisclosed Muggle hospital in London. An emergency seven hour operation was carried out on his arrival at the hospital to try to save his life and the Potions master had been in Intensive Care ever since. A specialist Muggle Healer is believed to have been flown into the hospital to try to save the Professor when his condition deteriorated two weeks ago._

_The exact time and circumstances of his death are as yet unconfirmed although news off his unexpected death, and the horrific events which caused it, are likely to install fear into the Magical community. Fears that the attack was carried out by Death Eaters also remain unconfirmed. Story continues on pages 3,4,5,7…_

"Somebody die?" Ron said jokingly as he walked into the kitchen at the Burrow to see Harry and Ginny sitting at the table looking shell shocked.

Ginny turned several shades paler while Harry just continued to stare unseeingly at the curled Daily Prophet. Ron, who had come to the Burrow the day before to stay for a week or so with Harry and Ginny, was at a loss as to what had happened.

"What?" Ron said, the grin sliding off his as Ginny looked at her brother in disgust.

"Here," Harry said quietly, chucking the paper across the table towards Ron.

"Is this a joke or something?" Ron asked uneasily without looking at the front page. "What have I missed?"

"He's dead, Ron," Harry said flatly, his voice shaking slightly.

"Who's dead? What…? When…? _Why…?_"

"Snape. An attack in London three weeks ago. Died last night."

"No," Ron said instantly. "No. That git's not… He can't have… He wouldn't have… Someone from the Order would have told us…"

"He's dead, Ron," Harry stated bitterly. "Read the _Prophet_. Front cover. It'll tell you everything. The Order didn't tell us anything because I don't think they know. He snuffed it because of his injuries."

As Ron scan read the front page, Harry stood up and wrenched his cloak around his shoulders. "Where are you going" Ginny said worriedly. "You can't…."

"I'm going out," Harry snapped. "See you later."

Harry pushed open the door and Disapparated just outside. Just as he appeared outside the main gates of Hogwarts, he felt ashamed of himself.

_I never even said thank you to him…_

Harry ignored the shudder of fear which ripped through him as he walked up to the castle.

* * *

A/N: Let the speculation begin…

Please review – your comments are hugely appreciated and the only form of payment a writer gets. Rest assured that if you review, I will respond.

Thanks for reading,

Stormy x

Ji : Thanks for reviewing and no, you haven't missed anything about Snape and Hermione. I've told you roughly what happens in this chapter as to why Hermione was making an effort to be charitable towards Snape and I'll explain the situation more as the story continues.

As for whether it's research or first hand, the answer is yes. I had to research quite a bit of the medical terms, and the drugs etc. but I have seen a few of those sorts of injuries in real life although thank God that they were no where near as bad. Occupational hazard when your life's ambition is to become a doctor and you've spent two years escorting people on horseback rides when they have fallen off at a gallop…

Selina : I'm glad you liked it and more is coming soon!

Carpathia : I'm really pleased that this is the kind of story you enjoy – plenty more to come!

Excessivelyperky : Ahh… You've hit the snag there when you say the Wizarding world won't care about the greasy git… I'll say no more here, you'll just have to wait. Evil grin PS: I hope you've cheered up!

Alkene : I'm glad you like what's happened so far and as for Snape washing hair…! I'll see – if it works somewhere later, I'll consider it!

Badluck-ngprod : More coming soon – thanks for reviewing!

Simply Dora: I hope the 3rd paragraph of the Prophet's article gives you some of the answer as to why Snape wasn't in St Mungo's but there is slightly more to it than what I've said. Thanks for reviewing!

Duj : I can assure you that when you see someone whom you last saw alive and well unconscious in an ICU, it is not pleasant. Hence Hermione's reaction. And as for McGonagall and Hermione effectively turfing Snape out, they did not intend for him to end up in hospital somewhere in a coma for weeks. Don't forget that Snape spent half his life deceiving Voldemort – he knows how to take care of himself! Thank you for leaving your comments and I hope that this clears things up a bit.

Barb8 : Thank you for leaving a review! And the answer to your question is yes and no. Hermione will be around but she isn't really a central character. At least, not one of the central two. She is going to help though.

CareBearErin : Yep – spot on that I'll go into more detail later as to why Snape helped Harry. I won't say why yet, though… As for being SS/HG – no it isn't, not at all. Sorry if it came across that way but I really didn't mean it too – I hope I haven't offended anyone… Thanks for reviewing!

Charbar : Hiya! They aren't really as close as you think – Hermione is just feeling guilty about the debt she owes Snape, and the one Harry owes him, and is try to make amends. As for including Guy's – freaky or what! My brother is at Uni in London and I got hold of one of his maps and found Black Prince Road – which seemed appropriate. I then tossed up between Guy's and St. Thomas' and settled on Guy's as it is the more well known of the two.

As for including Borough Market – any particular reason why? And sure I'll include it – it gives me a starting place for later in the story. Do you want the Leaky Cauldron aka the Market Porter to be included too…!

Thanks for your comments!


	5. Lies

JustJeanette: Thanks! Updates are coming soon!

duj: Ahhhh... dates... I've tried to keep the dates/ages as accurate as I can and I have been trying to double check as many as I can. Oh well, sorry if I got them wrong. As for it being inevitable... well, there had to be come inevitability in it but I hope you're enjoying it all the same!

Barb8: I hope you enjoy the next chapter as they show a bit more of Snape's reactions. Thanks for reviewing!

Carpathia: Wow - only one thing missing! I'm stunned, to be honest - I'm writing this using mainly just research from books etc. and a little from past experiance but I am so happy you think I've got most of it right. And as for Poppy being able to help - no she won't. I'm npt sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing... Also, I don't think Snape's an evilbastard either!

excessivelyperky: Permenant I'm afraid. Snape's in a bit of a mess, in short. Thanks for reviewing!

Charbar: Hiya! I am honestly surprised that no one else seems that concerned that I killed the main character... Oh well... I hope you'll enjoy this chappy too!

* * *

Thanks very much to everyone who has reviewed and, as they say, on with the show!

* * *

**Lies**

"What happened?" Harry said instantly as he saw Professor McGonagall, looking strained, walking down the Grand Staircase at Hogwarts.

"I beg your pardon? Oh, it's you, Potter. I assume you've heard the news then?"

"What happened?" Harry repeated angrily.

"Harry!"

Harry spun around on his heel to see Hermione running out of the Great Hall towards him, and embracing him in a hug. "Oh Harry, I'm so sorry I haven't been in touch recently. I've been busy looking after…"

"…Snape." Harry finished for her. "What happened?" he repeated for the third time. The two Professors exchanged glances. "Why didn't you tell the Order anything? Why didn't you tell _me_ anything?"

"Maybe you should come to my office, Potter, it's nearest," Professor McGonagall said quietly. "Hermione, I suggest you come too."

Harry sat down slowly into a small armchair a few minutes later in Professor McGonagall's office staring at Hermione, who was looking unusually tight lipped.

_Not surprising if the man she's been working with for the last six weeks has just gone and died…_

Harry broke the silence first. "What happened?"

"With what, Harry?" Hermione said incredibly calmly.

"You damn well know what with!" Harry exploded. "Snape's just gone and got himself beaten up somewhere in London and snuffed it last night! For Merlin's sake; look at what he did in the fight a few weeks back! I'd have died if it hadn't been for him! What the hell do you mean, _'with what'_!"

Hermione smiled gently at Harry's outburst. "The _Prophet_ is lying, Harry," she said softly. "Professor Snape's not dead; far from it, actually."

"But… But…" Harry stuttered.

"Rita Skeeter wrote the article, which should have given you a clue, Harry. You know what she's like with making things up. Some of the things she wrote are true, but not all of them; Professor Snape is not dead, I promise you."

"What bits _are_ true then, since you seem to know everything?" Harry snarled.

"Well," Hermione started slowly. "He was attacked in London three weeks ago and his injuries were exactly what the Prophet said they were; they didn't exaggerate them. He has been in a coma since the attack but he woke up yesterday for a few minutes and spoke to us, Madam Pomfrey and Mark, he's the surgeon who's been taking responsibility for Severus while he's at Guy's."

"'_Severus'?"_ Harry repeated incredulously.

Hermione blushed.

"Don't believe all of what you read in the Media, Potter," Professor McGonagall interrupted sternly. "Some of the facts will be correct but a good many are exaggerated or just plain invented. Especially if Rita Skeeter is involved," she finished tartly.

"When can I see him?" Harry asked sharply.

"I don't think…"

"You can't," Hermione and Professor McGonagall said together.

"Sorry!" said Harry, as he registered Hermione's outright refusal.

"He doesn't want to see you," Hermione said at once. "Well, I haven't actually asked him yet but I don't think it's a good idea. He's not… ummmm…"

"What aren't you telling me? I have a right to know!"

"I think it's for Severus to tell when he feels ready," Professor McGonagall said quietly. "He's going to have a rough ride, as it were, ahead of him. He just needs some time."

"Fine," Harry muttered coldly as he stood up, his eyes burning. "I actually bother to find out what the hell's going on and no one is even interested. _Fine…_ Tell _Severus_ that I don't want anything more to do with him. Tell him from me that I hope whatever he's done hurts. Tell him that I never want to set eyes on the miserable git again. Tell him that, Hermione."

"Harry…!" Hermione called exasperatedly as her best friend slammed the door to the office out of shear anger.

"Let him go, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said quietly. "This has been a shock for him; just give him time to calm down. He doesn't mean what he said; Harry's just very, very angry. You know he doesn't like being kept in the dark after what happened with Albus."

"I said we should tell him," Hermione responded in a cracked whisper. "Why didn't you let me!"

"We've been through this before, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said sternly. "Severus is in a dangerous position, now more than ever. What do you think the Death Eaters will do when they find out he's alive? He killed their mentor! Trust me, Hermione; the less people who know the truth, the safer Severus will be at the moment. He will not take to his new _predicament_ easily and he is very likely to push us all away. No one knows what it can be like to lose something as important to their whole principles as this."

"No," Hermione interrupted suddenly in dawning realisation. _"No._ There is one other who knows what it's like to lose something like this. Well, not exactly, but emotional suffering is sort of all the same. There's not much different between this and when Sirius died, and then Dumbledore…"

"No, Miss Granger. Potter will not agree and neither will Severus. Just let Severus be: he does not need Harry Potter rubbing his nose in it."

Hermione stared out of the window deep in thought, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her plan was half formed already; she just had to get it to work. A tall, black haired figure, almost running down to the gates, caught her eye and her plan suddenly seemed impossible.

_This cannot, and will not, ever work. They'll never learn to be strong for the other…_

Harry stormed out into the grounds and headed down towards the gates to Hogsmeade. He refused to look at the patch of burnt ground on the lawn where Lucius Malfoy had stood a few months earlier… at the area of bare earth where he and Snape had had fought side by side…

With a snarl, he Disapparated back to the Burrow to tell Ron and Ginny.

* * *

Hermione crept into room one half an hour later as quietly as she could. One of the Doctors had told her to be quiet as Snape was sleeping but Hermione had brought a book with her so it didn't bother her in the slightest. 

_At least it's sleeping and not unconscious now…_

When Hermione glanced over at Snape, she could see very little change from when she had first seen him after the attack except that the tube which had originally fed into his mouth had been replaced with a pull on mask. Snape was also partially propped up against the pillows but his face was still incredibly pale. With a soft sigh, she sat down on the chair beside the bed and started reading.

"Granger?" Snape whispered a few minutes later. Hermione jumped and looked up to see the Potions master watching her.

"Severus!" she said with an unconcealed smile. "How are you?"

"Never been better," Snape answered faintly but with his usual sarcasm. "And since when have I said you can use my first name?"

"I've been using it for the last three weeks and you haven't complained once," she shot back with a smirk.

Snape flinched as he tried to push himself upright against the pillows and he groaned quietly as a stab of pain twisted its way up his chest.

"Doesn't this place have painkillers?" Snape murmured, trying to ignore how weak his voice sounded.

"You're on maximum dosage," Hermione answered with a sympathetic nod. "Mind you, you've got to expect some form of pain if you go and get your chest ripped open by a load of Death Eaters."

Snape's eyes flashed momentarily.

"They think I'm dead, don't they," he stated bluntly, somehow far more mellow than he usually was.

"So does everyone else, actually," Hermione said as casually as she could while she put her book back into her bag.

"Sorry?" Snape asked incredulously.

"That's the first time I've heard you apologise," Hermione said vaguely before looking up at Snape and continuing in a steady tone. "And everyone in the Wizarding world thinks you're dead. It was in the _Prophet_ this morning; Rita Skeeter wrote an article about you being attacked and she said that you'd died last night."

"Everyone thinks I'm dead?" Snape said stiffly, looking at Hermione with a strange look twisting his pallid face.

"Yep," Hermione said casually. "Well, everyone who reads the _Prophet_ does, anyway."

"So that's everyone, then. At least Potter will be happy," Snape hissed quietly with a sneer.

"Actually," Hermione corrected, "Harry came up to Hogwarts this morning as soon as he'd seen the article. He was, uh, quite upset," she finished cautiously.

"Only to be a heroic Gryffindor."

"Only because he cares, Severus," Hermione corrected quietly. "He wants to help…"

Snape closed his eyes and turned away from Hermione with a frown creasing his brow. "No one cares about the '_greasy git'_, Miss Granger. Don't delude yourself."

"That's nice," Hermione said in a hurt voice. "So I've been sitting here for the last three weeks so I could enjoy your conversation, have I!"

"Don't be sarcastic, Granger," Snape snapped.

"Don't be a git, then," Hermione answered with a scowl, for a moment forgetting who she was talking to. Snape's customary bitterness seemed to have returned with vengeance as he regained a little of his usual bullyish manner.

"Language, Granger," Snape answered with a trace of silkiness before shuddering roughly as he tried to sit up.

"Professor!"

"Granger," Snape ground out through gritted teeth. "Go to Hogwarts and brew a concentrated strengthening solution. Bring it here. Use your brain for something useful for once."

"I don't think…"

"It won't react with anything those Muggles have given me if you add nine holly berries just before you leave it to simmer," he interrupted coldly, trying once more to sit up.

"No, I really think that you should ask Madam Pomfrey before…"

"Please," Snape snarled, almost as if the word was costing him a great deal of embarrassment to ask for something nicely. Before Hermione could answer, Snape groaned and sank back against the pillows with his eyes closed. For a few seconds, it looked as if the Half-Blood Prince was trying to say something but was too drained to get the words out. A moment later, he was asleep.

For a long while, Hermione sat frozen to her chair, unsure what to do.

_Do I get it for him…?_

All Hermione's common sense screamed at her to not do so but then her heart overruled her as she took in the Potions master's weak body.

_It won't do any harm…_

"I'll be back soon," Hermione whispered before guiltily leaving the room and heading back to Hogwarts as quickly as she could.

_

* * *

Two months later… _

"Enter."

The voice sounded anything but friendly and welcoming as Hermione pushed open a door covered with peeling, black paint: the front door of Spinner's End.

"Yes, Miss Granger," Snape said without looking up from the book he was reading.

"I was only coming to… see how you are," Hermione said hesitantly.

"As well as I could be, given the circumstances," Snape answered in a bored voice as if he had answered the question a thousand times before and causing Hermione to frown.

"I was only asking…"

"And now you've asked, what is it that you want?"

"N… nothing."

"Then why did you come, Miss Granger?"

Hermione blushed at Snape's sarcastic answer.

_Who'd have thought I spent hours every day for three months at his side hoping that he'd get better? That I would smuggle a potion into the hospital just so he could recover quicker?_

"I only came to check that you were all right," Hermione answered stiffly. "You only got out of Guy's three days ago!"

"Sit down, Miss Granger," Snape said coolly without looking at her. "What do you want to drink? I won't poison it, I promise," he added in irritation as Hermione gasped.

"I would… I mean… Maybe…"

"Yes?"

"Orange squash," Hermione said randomly.

_I don't even like orange squash…_

Snape scowled heavily and turned his wheelchair and made his way out of the room without a glance in her direction.

_Git…_

Hermione was annoyed; Snape had been considerably colder towards her ever since he'd left the hospital. He was still very pale and even his customary black robes didn't quite hide how skeletally thin he'd become over his time in hospital. He insisted that he wasn't in any pain but everyone was doubtful about that. Maybe it was only in Hermione's imagination, but she thought that the Potions master was more rigid than usual, that he was holding his shoulders a little too tense to be plausible…

Professor McGonagall had been correct when she said Snape would take the news of the loss of use with his legs very hard although he hadn't outwardly shown it. He hadn't left Spinner's End since he'd arrived and had barely spoken ever since. Harry, too, had also not mentioned the Potions master at all since his visit to Hogwarts and was feigning deafness every time anyone broached the subject.

_Still, Snape's not as well as he's making himself out to be…_

Hermione glanced over to the door Snape had gone through and assumed it led to a small kitchen. She shivered unnoticeably; the gloomy atmosphere did nothing to make Snape's living room any more endearing. A few seconds later, there was the sound of breaking glass followed instantly by a dull thud and a soft moan.

"Professor?" Hermione said cautiously, standing up in concern. She waited for an answer but all she could hear was Snape coughing violently.

"Professor!"

Hermione bolted into the kitchen where Snape had just gone, only to see the Half-Blood Prince doubled over holding his ribs, a shattered tumbler lying in glittering shards on the floor next to him. Snape seemed to go several shades paler even as Hermione watched and the Potions master was looking dangerously like he was about the throw up or pass out.

_Or both…_ Hermione realised grimly.

"Professor?" Hermione repeated clearly as she stepped over to him and put one hand firmly on his shoulder. "What's wrong? Oh god, please! Say something!"

"Let go," Snape hissed through gritted teeth. "I'm all right…" He roughly pushed Hermione off him and straightened up, only to fall forwards again with a crash as his shoulder collided with the worktop.

Hermione pulled him upright again and half dragged the wheelchair back into the lounge before picking the Potions master up with surprising strength and laying him as gently as she could on the worn settee. Hermione was horrifying aware as she did so at how much lighter the spy was compared to what she had expected someone of his height to be but she had no time to dwell on that fact as Snape closed his eyes, his mouth a thin line as he bit back a sob of pain. His face was as white as snow.

"What's wrong?" Hermione said instantly. "Don't lie and say nothing because something obviously is!" Snape didn't say anything, his face screwed up in agony. "If you don't answer in the next ten seconds," Hermione said desperately, "I'm calling an ambulance and you can go back to Guy's."

Hermione realised guiltily that she was blackmailing a teacher but pushed the thought aside as her threat achieved the desired response.

"Blue… bottle…" Snape choked out. "Table…"

Hermione stood up quickly and hurried over to a table in the corner of the room. An unlabeled blue bottle was there as Snape said it would be and she picked it up and walked back over to her old Potions Professor.

"Here," she said calmly as Snape wrapped a few long, pale fingers around its neck and tried to pull it off her. His grip wasn't strong enough though and the bottle slid from his grasp. Hermione caught it before it hit the floor.

"How much do you want?" Hermione asked as she uncorked the bottle as if nothing had happened.

"One… mouthful…" Snape gasped between bouts of more coughing.

"Here," Hermione repeated quietly as she put the bottle to Snape's thin lips and poured a small quantity of the elixir into his mouth. Snape swallowed greedily and visibly relaxed a few seconds later.

"Ok?" she questioned gently.

"Slightly," Snape answered in a voice full of bitterness despite the rapidly receding pain. He kept his eyes closed as he dropped his head onto the arm of the settee, his skin still ghostly pale.

"What is this, anyway?" Hermione asked as she lifted the bottle gingerly.

"Painkilling potion," Snape responded unhelpfully.

"I'd figured," Hermione said dryly. "Which one?"

"Antijury Draught."

Hermione nearly dropped the bottle.

"Stop overreacting. It works, what's the problem?" Snape snapped.

"You know _exactly_ what the problem is with it!" Hermione shrieked. "It's illegal! You can't buy it! It hides the pain so much you end up hurting yourself even more! That's what you feel pain for: to stop you hurting yourself – but it won't work if you stop feeling the pain all together! Whoever sold this to you is a nutter; and a criminal!"

"I didn't buy it off anyone," Snape sighed in irritation. "I made it. I am a Potions master, in case you had not noticed, Miss Granger. I made it as soon as I got out of that hell hole full of Muggle lunatics."

"_They saved your life!"_

"For what reason? What do I have to live for? No one wants to waste their time with a cripple," Snape answered without thinking.

Hermione gaped at him. "I… You…" she spluttered. Snape ignored her and waited in silence. He scowled slightly; the potion he had been taking made him impulsive and he often said something that he wished he hadn't. It was an annoying side effect, but the pain in his chest was too much to endure if he didn't take it.

He moved slightly; Spinner's End wasn't exactly warm and sitting around all day made him feel very cold almost all the time.

_Well, until a few hours ago, anyway…_

Several hours previously, he had started to feel oddly warm, almost as if he was sitting near a glowing fire at Hogwarts. The fact that he hadn't even managed to raise the energy to light so much as a candle, let alone a fire, seemed irrelevant to him. _In fact,_ he reasoned vaguely, _nothing seems that relevant any more…_

"You all right?" Hermione said nervously, looking at Snape's bloodless face.

"I'm tired," he answered slowly, slightly slurring his words. "I…" he tailed off, not sure what he was trying to say.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked again, sounding worried. Snape didn't answer; it was so much easier to ignore her… He was dimly aware of Hermione putting a gentle hand across his forehead and then pulling her hand away almost instantly with a yelp.

"Merlin, you're freezing!"

Snape thought he heard Hermione stand up but it didn't seem to matter; he was dozing lightly, feeling pleasantly warm and very sleepy now the Antijury Draught was working fully and he was in no mood to investigate. Consequently, he was mildly surprised a few minutes later when a thick blanket was pulled over him and a soft pillow was put under his head carefully.

He tried to say something but was too tired to get the words out; it annoyed him that someone felt as if they were brushing hair out of his face and talking softly but he could no longer understand what they were actually saying. Some small part of him screamed out a warning, telling him that something was wrong, but it didn't seem to make much of an impression on the rest of his brain. Just as the realisation washed over him, he felt again the unrelenting tug of some dark void toying with him like a small fishing boat on a rough, rolling ocean. He blacked out just as Hermione took his hand.

* * *

The next thing Snape was aware of was breathing in the smell of something burning. 

_What the…?_

His eyes flew open and he tried to sit up but fell back almost instantly with a sob of pain. He breathed in again and he noticed something almost instantly.

_Not burning, just cooking._

_Hang on…_

He sat up slightly and looked around himself. A thick quilt was covering most of his body while everything around him seemed to be a lot cleaner and tidier than when he'd last looked. A fire was burning merrily in the grate bathing the room in a warm orange glow and beside him, on a small table, was a round bottle with a handwritten label reading 'Pain Reducing Potion'.

"So you're awake then, are you?" Hermione said brightly as she walked into the room holding a stack of books.

"What are you doing here?" Snape demanded icily. "How did you get in?" It infuriated him when Hermione just smiled sympathetically.

"You let me in," Hermione answered softly. "About eight hours ago now. You've been asleep for most of it, though. You weren't exactly on top of things earlier, were you," she stated, causing Snape to turn away from her with a frown.

"I was all right," Snape snarled, fully aware he was lying.

"If you count collapsing in pain, taking an illegal potion and then falling unconscious with the early stages of hypothermia 'all right' then yes, I suppose you were."

For the first time in his life, Snape was lost for words. No one had _ever_ spoken to him like that before. Hermione turned her back to him firmly and started placing the books on a shelf in alphabetical order.

"When was the last time you ate anything?" she asked, careful to keep her voice light and casual.

"When I was at Guy's," Snape answered sullenly, mentally bracing himself for the reprimand which would undoubtedly be coming. Hermione spun around looking horrified but not overly surprised.

"That was _three days_ ago!"

Snape shrugged. "I wasn't hungry…"

_Why, in Merlin's name, am I explaining myself to Granger of all people?_

"You mean you were in too much pain to make yourself anything," Hermione interrupted shakily. "You should have said something and we'd have sent one of the house-elves over with some food from Hogwarts. Oh Severus…"

Snape froze just as Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth and blushed.

"I didn't… I mean… Sorry…"

Snape ignored her completely and Hermione seemed to sense his anger and started to edge slowly towards the kitchen. "I suggest you drink that," Hermione said awkwardly as she indicated the potion on the table with her head. "It'll do you good."

Snape glared at her but poured himself a glass of it anyway as soon as her back was turned. The dull ache had returned and he was keen to take anything which would reduce it. He swallowed the potion whole before dropping back onto the sofa as he waited for the potion to kick into effect, his head throbbing slowly. He glanced up when Hermione walked into the lounge holding a tray.

"Sorry, I know, my cooking's not great."

"Nor is your potion making. Next time you make a healing potion, make sure you add the salamander blood _after_ you let it simmer."

"_Advanced Potion Making_ said…"

"The book is wrong."

"Umm…"

"I qualified with an Honours degree from Cambridge University after a year of study. I became a Master after a further six months. I know what I'm talking about, Miss Granger, unlike you."

"How long does the course usually…?"

"Four years. Six if you become a Master," Snape answered, interrupting her silkily.

"Oh."

Hermione carefully put the tray down on the table and indicated that Snape should start eating. Slowly, Snape reached out and picked up the fork in silence. He was mildly intrigued to see a golden omelette and a glass of water on the tray and took a small amount on his fork. Hermione watched for a few seconds before Snape glanced at her.

"Is this normal Gryffindor behaviour?" Snape said coolly, "or is it just special treatment for me – that you feel the need to stare at me whilst I am eating? Or is it just you're enjoying the freak show?"

"Sorry," Hermione said, blushing again but not before a flash of pain flickered across her soft features. Snape smirked at her discomfort before taking a mouthful of the omelette. Within seconds, iron bands mercilessly contracted around his abdomen and he retched; his stomach so unused to food that it couldn't take any at all.

"Professor?"

"I feel sick," Snape murmured before he gave another barely repressed dry heave.

"Haven't you got something for that?" Hermione said quickly, averting her eyes rapidly to a glass fronted cabinet of potions. "At least, I thought you did."

"Black label," Snape supplied dully as he laid one arm across his stomach. "Left hand side."

"That's it, I think," Hermione said suddenly as she picked up a small vial. "One you made again?"

"Yes." He shuddered as he took the vial off Hermione and swallowed some of the navy blue liquid with a grimace.

"Taste foul?"

Then glare Hermione received made her recoil but Snape looked away from her quickly and started eating the omelette again. Hermione sat down on the opposite side of the table and carefully examined her fingers. After a few minutes, Snape spoke up at last.

"Why are you here?"

"Because Professor McGonagall asked me to come," Hermione answered without hesitation.

"Why are you here?" Snape asked again, looking at her, his face inscrutable.

"Because we were all worried about you. It was only three days ago that you got out of Guy's and…" Hermione tailed off, staring at Snape.

His black eyes were unreadable as he answered.

"Guy's released me as healthy."

"Guy's released you under the influence of Strengthening Solution," she corrected accusingly. "You overdosed on it, didn't you."

It wasn't a question and Snape didn't deny it. "And if I did? The Muggles aren't likely to want an enfeebled waste-of-space taking up one of their beds, are they? They're overstretched enough as it is so they might as well take care of those people who are capable of recovering. I'm not one of them."

Hermione sighed. "How much extra did you take?" she asked quietly, well used to Snape's disgusted opinions of his 'weakness'.

"Enough that they let me out," he muttered. "Taking extra wasn't the problem; it was when it wore off. That's why I made the Antijury Draught as soon as I got back here. It works virtually instantly. What's this got to do with you, anyway?" Snape demanded suddenly.

"So if it works instantly, it wears off instantly as well, I assume?" Hermione mused, ignoring Snape's last question completely.

"Yes, I was due for another dose when you turned up, before you ask," he said heavily as he reached for the glass of water Hermione had got for him. "And yes, its effects did wear off in the kitchen and yes, it did hurt. A lot."

Hermione couldn't help herself; she recoiled at Snape's self-condemning tone. Snape glanced at her, his dark eyes betraying no sign of his emotions.

"I can show you how much it hurt, if you like. Just walk down some god forsaken road near here and get yourself beaten up by a load of Death Eaters for killing their idol. Just tell them before hand that you'd rather not be murdered: you just want to have your lung punctured and then held under a curse which keeps you in a coma for a month as well as being paralysed from the waist down and made into an incapacitated failure. I'm sure they will happily oblige if you ask them. Say you know me and they'll be only too willing."

"That's not funny," Hermione whispered as she took in Snape's cold hearted, unfeeling words. "That's not funny at all."

"It wasn't meant to be. I was being factual."

Hermione looked directly into Snape's eyes and saw no traces of his usual sarcasm; it appeared that he was being brutally honest with her. Snape held her curious stare unblinkingly, neither speaking nor breaking eye contact with her. Hermione dropped her gaze first, blushing, and Snape took a sip of water as he watched the bushy haired Gryffindor.

"What happened? On that day…?"

"When I was beaten up? I don't know, I've already told you that."

"You really can't remember anything?"

"I…" Snape suddenly stopped talking, his eyes screwed up in pain and his jaw clenched as he dropped his head onto the back of the sofa, his fists clenched into tight balls.

"Professor!" Hermione squeaked as she stood up, pushing past the table to crouch next to the spy. "Oh Merlin, what's wrong! That's it, I've had enough. I'm calling an ambulance; I should have done hours ago. What is it! Please, Severus, speak to me! Is it a curse or something which means you can't tell me?"

"No," Snape ground out quietly. "The Antijury Draught I took earlier. It's just worn off."

Hermione swore at him.

As Snape was still struggling to do anything much for himself, it was agreed that someone from Hogwarts would go over to see him everyday to help out with cooking meals and general tidying up, not that there was much to do.

The Half-Blood Prince had clearly resented the outside interference but Professor McGonagall had no intention of letting Snape slip back into old ways. The job had largely fallen to Hermione as she, of everyone, seemed to be tolerated by Severus better than anyone else. It was agreed that Madam Pomfrey would not help; she had visited Snape on one occasion but it had been a disaster, in short.

"Do you want anything?" Hermione said as she walked into the lounge holding a bag of shopping a week later.

"A coffee would be good," Snape answered lazily as he looked up from the piece of parchment he was writing on.

"Anything to eat?"

"Not unless you are."

"I was going to have some cheese on toast, I'm starving."

"Put one in for me too, then, thanks Miss Granger."

"I'll be back in a sec…"

Snape was angry for some reason that day. He was tired of people fussing and fawning over him. He was tired of not having time alone. He was tired of not being independent. He was tired, most of all, of being _him_. There was a war going on and no one seemed to tell him anything about it. Voldemort hadn't summoned him,_ although_, Snape reflected suddenly, _that's because he thinks I'm dead and he's not exactly going to welcome back an incompetent spy who murdered his best Death Eater…_

"Planet Earth calling Severus! Earth to Severus!"

Snape jumped and looked up in surprise.

"You all right?" Hermione said, frowning slightly as Snape scowled.

"I'm fine," he answered stiffly.

_If one more person asks me if I'm 'all right'…_

Snape's hand subconsciously drifted towards his wand as Hermione said, "You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. I said I was, didn't I? Or are you such a know-it-all that you're going to tell me I'm wrong about that as well as everything else?" he spat sourly.

"Who's rattled you cage this morning?" Hermione said in surprise.

"Hold your tongue, Granger," Snape hissed.

"Fine," Hermione responded, sounding somewhat confused. "Sorry I spoke, _Sir_."

A nasty silence ensued, each of them waiting for the other to start speaking first.

"What is it?" Hermione murmured at last, unsure as to the reason behind Snape's sudden outburst. Snape just glared. "I can't help you if you…"

"I don't want help."

"Well…" Hermione stopped abruptly as she took in Snape's ashen face and cold, glittering eyes. The Potions master somehow looked a lot less human than he normally did and Hermione took an involuntary step backwards.

"I'm rejoining the Death Eaters. Get out this instant and never come here again. At least they may be good enough to put me down, which is what you Muggles do to broken down animals, isn't it?"

"I beg your pardon!" Hermione said in shock. "You don't mean… you _can't_ mean…"

"And why not?" Snape phrased the question in such a way that Hermione was stunned into silence.

"They tried to murder you!" Hermione choked out eventually, appalled. "They wanted you dead! They _still_ want you dead! You don't want that. Not really. You're stronger than just wanting to die!"

"And you point is…?" Snape said coldly; _indifferently_.

Hermione shook her head, mouthing wordlessly. Snape watched her with detached disgust.

"I've got nothing to live for," he breathed dangerously softly. "Granger: go out into the world and do something with your life. You still can, so don't waste it like I did. As I said, I have nothing to live for."

"You've got this place," Hermione started in a wavering voice. "You've got people who care for you. You have Hogwarts. You've got _me_…"

"In case you haven't noticed, I hate my father's house. I do not appreciate people interfering with my life. I was sacked from my job at Hogwarts. And lastly, do you really think I care about a jumped up, temperamental Gryffindor know-it-all?"

Hermione looked like she'd been slapped in the face as she stepped backwards, her lip quivering.

"My point exactly," Snape sneered as he took in Hermione's mortified expression. Hermione turned around just as Snape drew his wand.

"I'm leaving," she muttered thickly. "I'm not coming back."

"Good riddance," he spat maliciously. Hermione flinched but walked determinedly over to the door. She looked back when she put a hand on the latch and opened it.

"If you ever want anything," she said softly just as a tear rolled down her cheek, "know that Hogwarts will always be open to you if you need it."

"I won't."

Hermione bowed her head, ignoring the fact Snape had his wand pointing at her chest.

"The offer is there," she said as calmly as she could, "for if you do change your mind. We won't judge you. Help is always given to those who ask for it," she added as an uneasy afterthought as she repeated words Harry had once spoken to her.

Snape smirked. "Stop quoting Albus Dumbledore, Granger."

"Stop running back to Voldemort to get your revenge or whatever it is you want, _Severus_," she said just as she slammed the door, tears running freely down her cheeks.

Snape coolly pocketed his wand as soon as he heard the distinctive _crack_ which told him Hermione had Disapparated. He slowly pushed his wheelchair over to his store of potions. With no hesitation, he picked up the bottle of Antijury Draught and poured some into a small vial and placed it carefully in a deep pocket of his robes. He opened his wardrobe and drew out a rough, black cloak with a hood and a thin piece of white cloth.

Just as he was about to pull the mask over his head, he hesitated.

'…_know that Hogwarts will always be open to you if you need it… we won't judge you… help is always given to those who ask for it…'_

With a bitter sneer, he wrenched the mask over his head and pushed himself out into the darkening sky with only the faintest twinge of rapidly suppressed penitence as he thought of the towering walls and assured safety of Hogwarts Castle before Disapparating.

He failed.

The Half-Blood Prince tried again, and again, and again, but nothing happened. It just wouldn't work – you needed to be standing up to Apparate, and standing up was the one thing he couldn't do.

Fuming, Snape went back inside the house he had grown up in, and hated, and just waited. For a long time, he just stared at the magical, everlasting fire Hermione had conjured as if mesmerised. It was only when a coal dropped down in the grate and fell onto the hearth that Snape did anything at all. For the first time in living memory, Severus Snape started to cry.

* * *

A/N: So… What do you think? (Hint, hint…) That's Hermione's part over now, next chapter things start moving on faster again. I hope you're enjoying it so far though and more will be coming soon.

Also, before you all flame me and/or send me a curse in the post, you _will_ see Snape's reaction to finding out he lost the use of his legs later. I don't want to tell you too much too soon...

To Be Continued!


	6. A Decision

badluck-ngprod – I'm glad you're enjoying it and here is the next instalment!

excessivelyperky - The reason why the Des haven't flattened Spinner's End is that they have been otherwise occupied…Thanks for reviewing but I don't really want to say too much yet! I will be answering your questions in the next couple of chapters but you were right when you said that Snape had got as far as he could on his own…

duj – And since Severus happens to be an animal… Thanks for reviwing!

Simply Dora – I'm glad you liked and Hermione will still be around, but not as much as before.

Barb8 – I'm so happy that you're enjoying it! Thanks for leaving a review!

Koolcaz – Thanks!

Analorien – Thanks so much for the encouragement and I'm looking forward to the next time you can review!

Jill – It will be a Severus/Harry fic but not in the slash sense if you catch my drift… As for the Kleenex – I'm so happy (without wanting to sound morbid!) that you felt upset by this, I know I am drifting onto slightly unchartered territory for me as I've never seen another fic like this one although I'm sure that someone knows of at least one! Thanks for your review – it really put a smile on my face!

manx – Have patience… I'm sorry if you feel that the story hasn't developed enough so far but this is just beginning. Harry will be coming in from now on!

CareBearErin – You've got my own view of Severus down to perfection! I hope that I'll be able to keep him in character with what is coming; thanks!

Bettina – cough fair point about the 'heavy' stuff! – It's the first time I've attempted a fic like this so I'm focussing on the angst side of things where as 'm usually writing more of the action/adventure or general stuff. I'm so pleased that you like it though!

PS: Sorry for the delay in updates – I wasn't really going to let him brood forever!

Charbar – Hiya! Feeling sorry for Snape – to be honest, I'm really pleased that you _do_ feel sorry for him. So much of the time, especially after HBP, almost everyone is convinced that Snape's a purely evil git but… oh well…

**

* * *

**

**A/N: I am so sorry for the lack of updates but I have been snowed under with school work, not to mention trying to get my horse fit for a cross country event that's coming up soon… Oh well, I hope you enjoy this and more will be coming very, very soon.**

**You could view this as the first half of a two part chapter but I decided that something would be better than nothing.**

**Enjoy…**

**A Decision**

"No."

"But Harry…"

"No."

"But…"

"For the last time, Ginny – I said no!"

"How would you like it if it was me?"

"That's different. I care about you. Now, for the last time, this conversation is _over!_"

"Oh no it isn't, Harry! He's human too, you know, and it is damn obvious that he needs help right now and you won't give it to him! You are probably the only person who he would listen to. _Harry!_"

Ginny watched in despair as Harry stood up and walked out of the living room at the Burrow and disappeared down the hallway without answering. For the last few weeks, he had become quiet and withdrawn from her and his outright refusal to speak about what had happened was no closer to ending than it had been a fortnight before. Harry was ignoring what the Order said to him about future plans and seemed to be wallowing in a pit of despair.

A pit of despair that Voldemort had created.

Ginny watched as Harry moodily walked out into the garden and sat on the wooden table in the same place as he had the night before the Quidditch World Cup in his fourth year.

Harry stared at the apple tree at the end of the overgrown garden, his eyes glazing over with the memory of the times now lost to the past. As he did so, a painful feeling swelled inside him and he was forced to blink tears out of his bright, emerald eyes, once so open and clear but now haunted with a shadow that had only appeared after he had left Hogwarts at the end of his seventh year.

Quidditch had been all but stopped in the Wizarding World. It was no longer safe for large numbers of witches and wizards to meet in the open and after the attack by Death Eaters at the Birmingham Stadium of Magical Sports during the final of the British Quidditch Finals, all professional teams had been temporarily disbanded. Even the inter-house games that Hogwarts once had enjoyed had been stopped, the general agreement being that it was just too dangerous to have students out of the castle itself.

Dully, Harry stared at the corner of the newspaper sticking out of the Weasley's rubbish bin and recalled the first page perfectly:

**FURTHER ATTACKS IN THE COMMUNITY**

**THIS TIME MUGGLES TARGETED ALONGSIDE THE MINISTRY**

_It emerged yesterday that a series of attacks took place in Richmond, a suburb of London, on Wednesday night. The attacks took place in at least nine different locations, resulting in the deaths of fifteen Muggles. The assaults, it appears, all took place in houses which had once been owned by current Ministry representatives and widespread concerns that He Who Must Not Be Named has gained access to classified files at the Ministry have arisen as a result._

"_That is not confirmed," a Ministry spokesman said yesterday in a statement on behalf of the Minister for Magic. "To say such accusation without proof is futile and as damaging as trying to count your dragons before they have hatched – no, what concerns us more is the identity of the person who was coordinating these attacks in the name of You Know Who. Whoever has carried these devastating murders has clearly had them well planned for a substantial length of time."_

_When pressed, the spokesman revealed that: "…our initial inclination for the identity of the coordinator would have been Professor Severus Snape but, due to the tragic accident of last month, he is no longer a likely culprit. However, it is not beyond the realms of possibility that other Death Eaters could be carrying out his biding through written instructions. It is not beyond the nature of Professor Snape that he could have left instructions for He Who Must Not Be Named's followers to carry out after his death."_

_It is undoubtedly disturbing that a dead man could have thought to leave instructions for such devastating attacks to be carried out after his untimely death but so far, Aurors have been unable to find any concrete proof that the ex Potions master is directly responsible._

_On the subject of the disgraced Professor, his funeral is set to take place tomorrow morning at eight am at an undisclosed location. It has been requested that any donations are to be given to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, no doubt as a lasting tribute to Professor Snape's memory…_

Harry made a snap decision. Ginny, Hermione, Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey had all contacted him at some point over the last few weeks with concerns over the welfare of Snape, who had forcefully informed Hermione that neither she, Professor McGonagall nor Madam Pomfrey were welcome at his house ever again. Initially, they had tried to send house elves to Snape's house with food but each time, the elves had returned with the plate untouched.

To everyone's surprise, when each of the house elves returned they all stated that the Potions master was in excellent health and would like to remind them all that their interference was neither wanted nor needed. For a while, the Hogwarts' staff had all been slightly concerned about the truth of these reports from the house elves but, when Dobby eventually confirmed the story, the agreement was reached that they would leave the Potions master to himself.

Respecting his privacy, Minerva, Poppy and Hermione had refrained from visiting him up until now but their concern was once more growing.

Snape had not been seen for two weeks and no one was able to infiltrate the wards that he had cast around his house. The wards had weakened minutely over the last few days but, remembering Snape's almost violent demands of last time, Professor McGonagall had banned Hermione, Ginny and Madam Pomfrey from approaching him again. As she herself could not go due to her commitments as Headmistress and since the majority of the Order of the Phoenix were still unaware that the Potions master was even alive, it only left…

"Harry?" Ginny called quietly from the back door of the Burrow.

Harry snapped his head up and looked up into Ginny's soft brown eyes with something akin to guilt on his face.

"Are you coming in?" she asked calmly as Harry stood up, easing the stiffness in his muscles. "You've been sitting out there for hours – supper's on the table if you want some. Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding."

Ginny left her last sentence hanging and the Boy Who Lived walked over to his fiancée with a small smile.

"Sorry, Gin," Harry muttered, pulling the youngest Weasley into a hug. "I have just been a bit distracted recently, what with everything that has been going on. I just wish all of this was over. I wish there was something I could do that would be useful."

Ginny nodded, reluctantly pulling away from Harry and sitting down at the scrubbed table in the Burrow's kitchen and beginning to serve herself some roast potatoes. Harry quickly followed suit and, for several minutes, the only sound in the small kitchen was the soft clatter of knives and forks against china plates.

"I'm going out tomorrow," Harry said suddenly, his voice harsh as he looked at Ginny.

"Where to?"

"I don't know the name of the place; I was gong to use a tracking spell. And I intend to find Snape."

A relieved smile crossed Ginny's face. "Just be careful," she cautioned quietly.

Harry snorted. "I'm _always_ careful; I just seem to have developed a knack of getting into trouble. I'm no worse than Fred and George."

"Precisely," Ginny shot back without missing a beat. "That's what I'm worried about!"

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed that – not the longest chapter in the world but I hope you liked it all the same.As I said before - I hope something is better than nothing! More coming very soon and reviews are loved – massive thanks to those of you who do!**


	7. Finding what was lost

A/N: Sorry everyone - my computer decided to get 3 Trojan viruses and a worm (does that mean anything to anyone...?) so it had to be taken away to be repaired. I was told it would take three days. It came bak two days ago after two and a half weeks. I jope you'll enjoy the second half of the previuos chapter. Thanks for sticking with me!

* * *

Finding What Was Lost

_The next morning…_

"_Comperio Severus Snape!"_

Harry held his wand over a map of England and watched as the red ball of light that emerged from his wand fell gently onto the parchment and rolled to a rest on top of the 'L' in London. With a sigh, Harry waved his wand and watched as the map enlarged enough so that he could see the specific road he was looking for: Spinner's End.

Harry stood up, folding the map into the pocket of his robes before pulling a warm cloak around his shoulders. Glancing at his watch, he vaguely registered that it was seven o'clock in the morning before he Disapparated to the road the map had indicated.

The first thing Harry was aware of when he Apparated to the corner of the street was that the gentle, sluggish breeze was wafting the rank smell of stagnant water through the alleyway he was standing in. The houses in the road were mostly dilapidated and held the damp, rancid smell of decay and neglect as effectively as the river did. Harry's initial thought was that no one in their right mind would _choose_ to live somewhere like this; the dull, overcast weather making the place no more endearing.

_Mind you, this place suits a greasy git like him…_

Walking determinedly down the road, Harry had originally had a niggling doubt that he would have trouble identifying Snape's home but the large, forbidding chimney that grew out of the mist clearly oozed magic; magic of a slightly dubious nature.

At a first glance, the wards around the house appeared to be immeasurably strong, each protective spell intricately woven into the very fabric of the walls and the powerful anti-Muggle charms seeming to radiate from the house in palpable waves. Hesitantly, Harry tested the strength of the magic with his own and found the first layer of spells unyielding and unbreakable.

_Think, Harry, think…_ he scolded himself in a voice strangely similar to Hermione's.

"_Confringo!"_

Nothing.

"_Abrumpo!"_

Still nothing.

"_Debilito! Proscindo!"_

_Still_ nothing. The wards showed no signs of yielding.

"For Merlin's sake… _Desino Praestigiae!"_

The moment Harry spoke the words, to his complete amazement the wards shattered like eggshell. Harry's grip on his wand tightened as he appreciated for the first time just quite how clever Severus Snape really was.

The spell he had just used was a powerful Disillusionment charm; Snape had clearly put his efforts into creating an illusion that would make it appear his house was well warded when, in reality, there was nothing at all stopping someone just walking in. The charm, although immensely complicated to create, required very little actual magical power but now, after nearly three weeks, the Illusion Charm had all but lost its effectiveness.

Without any further hesitations, Harry walked up to the decrepit front door and cautiously tried the handle. A slight feeling of unease washed over him as the door swung open easily, flakes of paint falling onto his bare hand as it did so.

"Snape? Snape? Are you here? Where are you?"

No answer. So far, Harry's shout had provoked no response from the elder wizard.

"Oi, Snape! Where the hell are you?"

Harry walked down a short hallway and found himself in what appeared to be a small kitchen. A sink with one set of unwashed cutlery and a plate of rancid food sat on the counter while the tap dripped slowly, the clock on the wall ticking rhythmically. Everything appeared to be disused; the thin layer of dust covering every surface accentuating the air of neglect.

"Snape!"

The silence in the house was oppressive as Harry stepped into the lounge at Spinner's End. An unlit lamp was in the corner of the room alongside a worn bookcase and a moth eaten chair. A small table in the corner of the room had a note written on it in scrawling, jagged letters with an almost empty vial placed next to it. Curiously, Harry picked it up and a feeling of trepidation washed over him as he read it quickly.

_If you are reading this note, I sincerely hope that you will appreciate that it clearly states that you are not welcome here. It also implies that you are a common criminal as you are breaking into my house unasked. I do not want anyone to come here looking for me; just let me make my own decisions rather than the busybody that you are trying to order me otherwise._

_This is my life. You would do well to realise this._

_If you are a house elf, I have decided to issue you with a direct order. All Hogwarts elves, I am part of the team Hogwarts has decided are the 'Masters' and therefore I would like to point out that this is a direct order and MUST be obeyed without question or arousing suspicion: _

_IF YOU HAVE COME HERE ON THE PRETENCE OF FINDING ME, CHECKING UP ON ME, CLEANING OR BRINGING FOOD, OR ANY OTHER REASON, I AM ORDERING YOU TO RETURN AT ONCE TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM SAYING THAT YOU HAVE FOUND ME IN GOOD HEALTH AND THAT I REQUEST THAT YOU LEAVE ME ALONE. YOU WILL ALSO POINT OUT THAT I AM PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF TAKING CARE OF MYSELF. YOU ARE TO RETURN THE FOOD AS WELL AND YOU ARE NOT TO TOUCH ANY OF MY POSSESIONS. YOU ARE TO DRINK EXACTLY ONE TEASPOONFULL OF THE POTION BESIDE THIS LETTER BEFORE YOU LEAVE. YOU WILL THEN REPLACE THE BOTTLE EXACTLY WHERE YOU FOUND IT._

_THIS MUST ALL BE DONE WITHOUT ARROUSING ANY SUSPICION WHATSOEVER ONCE YOU RETURN BACK TO WHEREVER YOU CAME FROM._

_IF THESE ORDERS ARE NOT OBEYED, I WILL PERSONALLY SEE THAT YOU RECEIVE CLOTHES._

_S. Snape_

Harry suddenly became aware of a sweet, sickly smell in the room and he realised that it was the stench of rotting wood. Looking at the floor, Harry also noticed marks on the floor which looked suspiciously like stains of blood.

"SNAPE!"

The dark, dried marks seemed to be laying a fine trail across the room from a bookcase to a doorway. Panicking slightly, Harry walked back into the hallway and went up the stairs to find a small bedroom, the bed immaculately made and everything unnaturally tidy. To Harry, it looked as if it had not been touched for weeks, let alone slept in.

"_SNAPE!"_

Virtually running down the stairs, Harry bolted back into the living room and paused by a chair, thinking desperately.

_No one else has been here for weeks,_ Harry mused. _Does that mean that Snape has left here? Or have Death Eaters or, worse still, Voldemort come here for revenge…?_

Absentmindedly, Harry reached out to touch the arm of the chair. And froze.

The worn, padded arms of the seat were cold and hard and a lot narrower than what they first appeared. The chair itself was oddly rigid and the two decorative wings at the back of the seat were curiously shaped like a pair of handles while the four feet were curled into spirals.

Cautiously, Harry flicked his wand, hissing a disillusionment charm under his breath. He wasn't disappointed as the armchair instantly shrank into a red framed wheelchair, the swirls of the material fading to a solid black. A cushion, which at first glance looked to have just been knocked onto the floor immediately morphed into a footrest.

"What the…?"

Harry stepped back in surprise and stumbled slightly over the table, reaching out a hand to break his fall. It was just by chance that the first thing he touched was the bookcase.

The bookcase in question instantly swung open to reveal a narrow, rickety staircase which spiralled upwards into darkness. Dust had settled on each of the stairs to leave a thin layer up the centre of each step while a thicker layer hugged each of the walls. To Harry, it looked like an object had been dragged up them to leave a wide strip while the majority of the grime had been untouched. Hesitantly, Harry started to climb the stairs, knowing that this was the last place Snape could be.

"Snape?" Harry called softly as he reached a second wooden doorway. _"Lumos!"_

Harry's first impression of the room when the door swung open was that of a small, cramped prison cell. The room resembled barely more than a roughly converted loft with almost no furniture except a small camp bed. A thin blanket lay over the mattress and, across the faded excuse for a pillow, a ragged bundle of black robes lay in a crumpled heap. Harry edged closer, halfway torn between horror and morbid curiosity.

"Snape?" Harry murmured, reaching out a hand towards the bundle of robes he now recognised as a person and gently rolling Snape over.

Lank, greasy hair fell across Snape's pale face, the hollows of his cheeks more pronounced than ever before. Darting his eyes downwards, Harry noticed a small pool of dried blood had seeped into the greying mattress from an opened wound across Snape's stomach. Feeling suddenly ill, Harry groped at Snape's thin wrist in search for any sign of life. The strong, steady pulsing under his fingers came, although he never admitted it, as a great relief.

"Snape?" Harry repeated louder this time, shaking the other man's shoulder. _"Enervate!"_

_

* * *

_

A/N: I hope you enjoyed that! Sorry about the wait between chapters but I hope you'll bear with me – I'm on holiday for a week now so I should get some work done on it. Stormy x

You may have noticed that I was using some spells unknown to the HP series but since I was trying to keep this as close to JK's style as I could, all the spells I invent are rooted in Latin as hers are. In case anyone's interested, the translations are below:

'Comperio' – 'Find / discover'

'Confringo, 'Abrumpo', 'Debilito', 'Proscindo' – 'To break into pieces / destroy / break down'

'Desino' – 'stop / cancel', 'Praestigiae' – 'Illusion' : literally, 'Stop the illusion'


End file.
